Normality
by xXHiddenSecretXx
Summary: "I'm not normal." I don't even realise I've said the words out loud at first. Those words that often worm their way through my mind, that have been instilled into me from birth by Mother. His words shock me. "And what defines normal for you?"
1. Tuesday Morning

**Author: Hidden Secret**

**Summary: "I'm not normal." I don't even realize I've said the words out loud at first. Those words that often worm their way through my mind, that have been instilled into me from birth by Mother. His words shock me. "And what defines normal for you?"**

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Chapter 1: Tuesday Morning

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467...468...469...470...471...

I place one sneakered foot precisely in front of the other. It's another hot day, not that I expect anything else in the middle of a Phoenix summer. I don't like the heat too much, but I don't know any different so I can make no comparison. My strides are perfectly measured so any cracks in the pavement are expertly avoided. The rhythm of my feet matches my breathing, as I grow nearer to my destination. I know the time is exactly 10.17am as I pass the corner store down from Mothers house. Every day I take this route at exactly this time, and take exactly the same steps to reach my well known, comfortable coffee shop.

526...527...Left turn 90 degrees...528...529...open door.

The bell jangles obnoxiously as it always does, alerting the staff and other customers of my arrival. My arms tighten instinctively around my battered, worn notebook that I hold clutched to my chest as I feel the eyes of several people shift to me, just for a second, before they return back to their lives. I always make it a point to be unmemorable to people. Someone to overlook. I approach the counter, which is already occupied by another customer. He is a tall man dressed in a perfectly pressed, pinstripe suit, the lack of wrinkles satisfying me immensely. My eyes travel up until they reach his head.

My breath stops suddenly.

His hair is an absolute mess.

The strands are a weird colour, somewhere in between orange, red and brown. It sticks up in all directions, with no order or symmetry at all, and it almost seems to defy gravity. I let out a shaky breath as I attempt to control the panic I feel. It keeps growing, threatening to consume me, but I squash it down. I know logically that not everything around me can be perfect. But a small part of my brain keeps telling me it's wrong, that it has to be fixed.

But I can't.

So I shut my eyes tightly and focus on my breathing. In and out. On the inside I'm talking to myself.

_Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be...not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be... _

Eventually I feel my breathing even out, and the chaos in the mind quieten. My grip relaxes from where I've unknowingly clutched my notebook in my panic. I can hear my name being called.

"Bella, are you ok?"

I glance up, my focus immediately shifting to the name tag of the person behind the counter. Of course it's Angela. She always works on Tuesdays. I walk forward, noticing that I'd been so focused on calming down that I hadn't realised the Crazy-Haired man in front of me has moved away, and begin to pull my change out of my back pocket.

"Large hot chocolate please."

Angela smiles sweetly at me. I like Angela. She always makes sure she gets my order right. She takes my exact change from where I'd stacked it on the counter, bills on the bottom, coins stack neatly on top in decreasing order of size.

"Ok, sweetie. Why don't you go sit down and I'll bring it to you."

I smile. I like Angela.

"Thank you," I say, my eyes still focussed on her name tag.

I turn and make my way towards my chair, my comfy armchair in the corner near the window. I always sit there. It's mine. Every day I come here to sit and write. I write whenever I can, but by coming here I attempt to keep myself comfortable out in amongst people.

As I weave in between the scattered tables, I glance up. I'm almost there, but I freeze in place.

The Crazy-Haired man is sitting in my seat.

Panic begins to rise up, bubbling to the surface no matter how hard I try to stop it. I'm frozen in indecision. Should I turn around and leave? But that would mean I'd be home when Mother woke up, and that was never a good idea. Should I sit somewhere else? I haven't prepared myself for an eminent seat change, so I doubt it would go well. My eyes begin to fill with tears and my hands shake as the different parts war within me.

I have my eyes trained on the man's hands as they clutch the daily newspaper. As he turns the page his gaze shifts upwards, and he pauses when he sees me. I suppose I look like a right weirdo, all shaking hands and shallow breaths. There is nothing I can do. I wait for the nasty comment, or to be ignored. Instead, I am startled when he speaks to me.

"Excuse me miss, are you ok?"

His voice is soothing, and although I'm closer to a panic attack than I have been in a while, I feel his voice helping to push down the broiling inferno inside me. I can finally begin to control my breathing a bit. I can do this. I can ask him to move. It isn't a big deal.

But what if he says no?

No, he can't say no. That is my seat. I have to sit in my seat.

"Miss..." he begins.

"Tha...That's my seat." The words seem to burst out of me, racing to reach an unknown goal, to be the first to cross the imaginary finish line. I'm not sure where they even came from. I have never talked to a stranger like that in my life. Mother always told me that I didn't have anything of value to say, so I should never talk, because people were too busy to hear it. She's right. No one ever wants to hear what I have to say. I'm worthless. I can't even be normal. I just had to insist that this man move from my seat. I can't even stop myself. It has to happen or I feel like my world was going to end. There's too much change, too much deviation from the routine. And now the man's going to scoff at me and say no. And then I don't know what I'll do. I can't think...

"Would you like me to move?"

His calm, silky voice interrupts my frantic inner monologue and it takes me a second to understand what he said. I furiously nod my head, which is when I realise one of my hands has unclenched itself from my notebook to tug relentlessly on the perfectly smooth, tidy ponytail. I can feel the burn of the individual hairs at the back of the head, just above the nape of my neck. I must have been pulling hard.

The man quickly folds his paper and stands up, circumnavigating the small coffee table in front of my seat, before sitting down in the armchair across from mine. I don't even think about it, I simply stagger forward and plonk myself down in my seat.

My seat.

No one else's.

My eyes slip closed as I struggle to get my breathing under control again as the panic begins to settle, the harsh inferno simmering down to a gentle, ever present swell. _Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be... _My mantra continues, stabilizing me as it was designed to do.

"Bella? Are you ok?" Angela's sweet face is the first thing I see when I open my eyes, which immediately divert to the steaming mug in her hand. She sets it down gently on the table and shoots a suspicious glance at Crazy-Haired man, before returning to me, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Realising I have yet to answer I bob my head agreeably, still staring at the mug. It has stripes of chocolate sauce on top. Perfectly symmetrical strips. And two marshmallows. One on each side. Symmetrical.

"Is this guy bothering you Sweetie?" asks Angela, her hand resting lightly on the back of my chair. I glance up to see the Crazy-Haired man once again reading his newspaper, as if nothing has happened. As if he hasn't just been very rudely asked to move seats, by a shaking, stuttering stranger. It finally gives me the chance to study him.

The first thing I notice is his jaw. It's strong, square and undeniably masculine. The kind of jaw that people would call 'chiselled'. He's clean shaven, but I can almost imagine his jaw lightly dusted with stubble, the same strange redish colour of his hair. His lips are...perfect. Symmetrical, pouty, amazing looking. I don't think I've ever found someone's lips so perfect looking in my whole life. His nose is slightly crooked, which throws me off for a second, but then I realise it fits his face perfectly. His eyes are what draw me in the most though. A stunning shade of emerald green that, coupled with his hair, creates a striking combination.

He's perfectly imperfect.

I can feel my cheeks blazing, and I try to keep up with how I'm feeling. I shouldn't be feeling like this. Nothing's going to happen, so I shouldn't pretend that I have the chance to even have a normal conversation with this man. But that's not his fault, so I shake my head at Angela. He's not bothering me far from it. Angela smirks at me knowingly and chuckles. I don't know why she's laughing. "Well ok then. You know where to find me if you need me." The Crazy-Haired man glances up at her comment and she shoots him a stern warning look. I don't know why. But I like Angela. I trust her. Surprisingly the Crazy-Haired man nods at her in return, like he knows exactly what she's thinking. I don't understand what's happening, but I often don't so I don't dwell on it too much.

I finally release my notebook and rest it on my lap. I scoot forward towards my symmetrical hot chocolate. First I pick up one of the marshmallows and pop it in my mouth, before carefully placing the other one perfectly in the middle of the foamy drink. Grabbing the spoon I slip it into the foam, careful to not disrupt the chocolate swirl or marshmallow, and calmly stir the drink... 'one, two, three' times, the words passing quietly from my lips as I do so. Satisfied, I tap the spoon on the lip of the mug three times before placing it next to the mug on the saucer.

And he laughs.

It wasn't a mean laugh, or an obnoxious one. It didn't carry around the room, and tell everyone in the coffee shop 'Look here, look what this weirdo is doing', but it was a laugh. And it hurt. I don't know why it hurt. I just know that I did, and I didn't like the feeling. It made me feel small, like when Mother talks to me. _You will never be normal Isabella. No one will ever be able to put up with you but me. Don't hope for anything else in life. This is it. Be grateful and deal with it._

I can feel the cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment. I try to stop them, to not give away how much he affects me, but between my fierce blush and my now shaking hands, of course he's going to notice my weakness.

However, when his voice comes, it isn't infused with taunting like I anticipate. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean laugh at you, but..."

He pauses. I expect the worst. Something like 'but you're a strange person' or 'but I have to go because I can't be around you anymore'. Instead...

"...but you like things to be a specific way don't you." It's a frank assessment more than a question. I don't know whether it is honesty I sense in his tone or I'm just misreading tone again. It happens. The subtle nuances of speech can be too confusing for me to keep up.

Either way, I know that soon this breathtaking, beautiful man will see me for what I really am. There's no point in trying to hide it.

"I'm not normal." I don't even realise I've said the words out loud at first. Those words that often worm their way through my mind, that have been instilled into me from birth by Mother. Never the less, it's just stating the obvious. My outburst has caused the Crazy-Haired man to frown, his brow furrowed causing wrinkles to mar his perfectly imperfect face.

"And what defines normal for you?" His words shock me. I did not expect him to argue my statement. It's a fact. At least, it is to me. But still, he continues. "Normal is a completely arbitrary word, and has different definitions for each different person. Of course you're going to fall short if you measure yourself against someone else's measurement of what's 'normal'."

And in those few sentences, the Crazy-Haired man sparks a change in me.

It isn't an immediate change, like a rubber band snapping into place, or being hit by a bus. It's more a knowledge that something is pressing in on me, begging for attention, wanting to show me something. It's scary, because I know it means more change, so I do what I know I shouldn't.

I push it away.

I shove the man's presence out of my thinking and flip open my notebook, which falls to where a pen is shoved in the centre. And without a second thought, I sink into the pages, my pen letting loose the story that is constantly roaming around my head like a leaky tap, consistently dripping with no way to stop it.

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By the time I resurface half an hour has passed and I've filled up over ten pages with my cramped, messy handwriting. My knees are pulled up towards my chest with my notebook resting on them. My return to awareness is a sudden occurrence, so there are several things I notice at once.

Firstly, the coffee shop is more crowded than when I went 'under'. I expected this. Nearer to lunchtime it begins to fill with corporate office workers grabbing coffee and/or lunch, workman from whatever construction work is in the area, and bored stay-at-home housewives that need an excuse to get out of the house and meet up with other stay-at-home housewives. My arrival is perfectly timed to coincide between the early-morning and lunch rushes.

Secondly, in the general upset and confusion that was caused by my interaction with the Crazy-Haired man, my hot chocolate was left to cool without me drinking it. I can only stand to drink it with its piping hot. I try to push it out of my mind with a short round of _Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be..._

And Thirdly, the Crazy-Haired man is staring at me.

The thought isn't as unsettling as I thought it would be. His newspaper is folded neatly and tucked down in between his briefcase and the armchair, indicating that he was obviously finished reading it but had not left to continue on with his day for some reason. His hands are clasped in front of him, with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his legs jut out on a diagonal to avoid the coffee table, crossed one over the other. Everything about his posture says he is completely relaxed, but when I glance up quickly I see his eyes, directed on me, studying me, are intense as ever. I'm not sure how his gaze makes me feel. I'm self-conscious, and a little flustered by it, but at the same time it causes my belly to flip and my heart to race in a delicious way that I've only ever read about before. I need time to study these emotions, but I know I must wait for later.

An empty coffee cup is on the table between us, on his side. He must have gotten his coffee while I was out. It's one of those small mugs that generally hold something strong, for seasoned coffee drinkers...or children who want to look grown up by drinking a mini mug of frothy milk. The image of this man drinking frothy milk and sporting a milk moustache makes me forget the previously tense atmosphere and crack into a smile, a smile that is soon matched by one of his.

"What's so funny?" his voice is gently, almost teasing, but cajoling at the same time. I answer without thinking.

"Do you drink really strong coffee, or frothed milk?" What made me say that? Now he's going to think I'm really strange, asking if he drinks a kids drink. I start to fiddle with the fabric of my jeans, the fingers aching to keep occupied as my embarrassment returns full force. Until I hear him chuckle.

"No, I don't drink steamers. My niece enjoys them though." I nod my head, relaxing a bit. I can't help notice that his shoes are really nice, black and super shiny. "My name's Edward. What's yours?"

I looked at him puzzled. "But y...you know what it is. Angela said it before."

"But I want you to tell me." His lips quirk into a sweet smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. For some reason I know that with that look, he will get me to tell him anything.

"Bella." His smile widens.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Bella."

I nod, still uncertain. We fall into a mostly comfortable silence as I look out the window, admiring the hot sun on the dusty roads and the blue sky that stretches for miles in all directions. I wonder why he sticks around, surely he has better places to be than sitting here, talking to me?

"Do you enjoy writing?" I nod in agreement. He is looking at me, and I know he wants me to elaborate. Everything about my interactions with the Crazy-Haired man, Edward, is contradictory to any of my past interactions with anyone, ever. Mostly, people aren't interested in what I have to say or what I enjoy doing. They treat me like a child, barely worth acknowledging, let alone engaging. This attention Edward is giving me is both refreshing and slightly scary at the same time. Never the less, I find myself answering, more sure of what I have to say than I ever have been.

"It helps me escape; from my life, from myself. I use it as an anchor I suppose. It's the only way I feel safe, happy. It makes me feel..." I stop, knowing that he would not agree with the end of my sentence. However, he seems to know what I'm going to say, so much so that he can finish my sentence.

"Normal?" This makes him frown again. I feel bad. Someone like Edward should never have to frown. "Something must be pretty screwed up in your life if you don't feel like you can be normal."

For the first time since meeting Edward, I look up and meet his gaze. His eyes seem to stare straight into me. Past my plain features and awkward interactions. He looks worried, like the trivial problems of my life are of the uttermost importance to him, which I know is absurd. How can he be interested in me, in any way, shape or form? But no matter how fraudulent I may believe his concern to be, I know that I'm going to answer with the truth, to myself, and to another person, perhaps for the first time in my life.

"I suppose there is."

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**A.N: Be gentle...**


	2. Tuesday Afternoon

**Enjoy :)**

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Chapter 2- Tuesday Afternoon

"Thank you." I'm the one to break the silence that follows my frank and honest admission. I don't know if it was a comfortable silence or an awkward one. I can't tell. All I know is that neither of us are speaking, and Edward looks a bit upset about something. Weirdly I want to change that, want to make him happy again.

Now looks at me in question. "For what?"

I shuffle my feet, my cheeks flaming. "F...for...for giving me my seat." It's working. Edward's smiling. But he needs to stop doing that. I can't think when he looks a he like that. My brain goes fuzzy.

"You're welcome. I was happy to do it." I nod again. It seems that when I don't know what to say in a conversation I nod. Interesting.

It's 11.52.

I close my notebook, carefully lodging my pen in the page I'm on, and stand. Edward stands as well. I don't know why.

"Did I do something wrong?" He looks sad, like he doesn't want me to go. No one has wanted me to stay before. But I can't stay. I have to go. It's 11.52.

"It's 11.52." He looks confused.

"And?"

"And I have to go home."

"But I want to spend more time with you." This one makes me stop.

He wants to spend more time with me? I can't even fathom that. People don't want to spend time with me, they want to run away from me. He looks like he means it too. Does he mean it? I don't know. Nothing's making sense right now. And I'm behind schedule. I have to explain somehow. I don't know what to say. So I go for... everything.

"I can't stay. I have to go home. Every day I come here from 10.19am to 11.52am. Then I go home. 529 steps. I have to go."

I start towards the door. He follows me. I can see Angela waving to me out of the corner of my eye. I like Angela. This is the first time I've noticed that she does that, probably because I'm hyper aware of my surroundings with Edward around. I wave back at her hesitantly. Maybe I should make sure I wave to her in the future. I log that in mind, adding it to my mental schedule. It fits nicely without disturbing anything else. I think I'll leave it there.

I'm out the door and the counting starts. _1,2,3,4,5,6,7..._

"Can I see you again?"

His hand is on my arm. I freeze. On step seven. I'm on step seven. I have to remember. I want to answer him, but my mind is too occupied. Half of it is trying to remember my steps. What if I somehow forget? It'll screw up my entire counting routine, and I'd have to come back and start again. And that'll delay my entire schedule for the day. And I'll get less writing done. And I don't even want to think about what Mother will say...

And the other half of my brain is overshadowing it. All I can seem to focus on, all my brain keeps going back to, is the feeling of his hand on my arm. I can feel the warm, heavy weight of it, but it's not oppressive or constricting. It's gentle, comforting, searching for an answer.

"Seven."

Now Edward really looks confused. I don't want to confuse him, but he has to know how important it I that I'm on step seven. I've never been interrupted in the step counting before. I have to tell him. I have to explain, but all I can focus on is his hand. It's a pretty hand, all long fingers and smooth skin. I can't remember the last time I've been touched by someone. I tend to shy away from it, but also, physical contact just isn't readily available in my life.

Who am I kidding; it's not available in my life at all.

However, I'm finding that with Edward I want it, crazy hair and all. I don't want him to take it away. The softness, the heat that seeps into my skin, the feeling consumes me, distracts me from everything. Including Edward. I realise Edward is talking again, and I want to listen to him, but to do that I have to drag myself away from these new, delicious feelings I am experiencing. I think he's panicking, but I can't be certain. Finally what he's saying begins to sink in.

"Seven? Bella, can you tell me what seven means?" He looks so concerned. I want to try to explain. It tumbles out. I hope he can understand me. I know I can ramble sometimes.

"Seven. I'm on step seven. Seven out of 529. I have to remember I'm on step seven."

"Ok, I can help you remember. Now do you reckon you could think about what I said before?" I calm myself again, which is a lot easier with his hand on my arm. I glance up at him, because I can't for the life of me remember what he asked me. He seems to know what's stopping me, and puts me out of my misery by repeating the question.

"Can I see you again?"

I don't know what I should say. I want to see him again as well. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable around another person. It makes me feel...good. And that's an emotion that I have always wanted to feel. I get glimpses of it every now and then, like when everything goes precisely to plan in my day, but this feeling even trumps that.

"I come to this coffee shop at the same time every day. From 10.19 to 11.52." I can't help the blush that comes over my face as I continue to stare intently at his pretty hand. It's still there, he hasn't moved it. It's nice.

"Every day?" he asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I nod enthusiastically, a strand of hair coming loose from my ponytail and fluttering over my eyes. His other, unoccupied hand comes up and gently shifts the strands behind my ear, before drifting down to cup my cheek. It's just as warm and gentle as the other, and sends a shock wave of feeling along my jaw line. I gasp quietly as he pulls my face up until I am looking into his eyes. This is the second time I've looked into his eyes since meeting him, and it's a new experience for me. Normally I can't make eye contact with people, but with Edward I like it. He's smiling, and I can feel myself drifting again.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." This causes me to burst into a grin, which Edward gladly matches. He releases me gently, to my disappointment, but he keeps talking to me in a calm, level voice.

"Ok Bella, you're on step seven, remember?" I had forgotten. "And if you take another step, you'll be on step eight. Then you can keep going until you get home."

And it's as easy as that. I take the next step, and my counting resumes, exactly where I had left off. It isn't till I'm walking up the stairs to the front door that I remember I never said goodbye to Edward.

* * *

Edward has pretty hair. That's the conclusion I have come to. I like the color and strangely I like the fact that it's not symmetrical. I don't think there's ever been a time when I've liked something that was asymmetrical. Tolerated, maybe. I know there are times when I can't change or rearrange things, so I try and put them out of my mind. I wouldn't change Edwards' hair for the world. I've found that I can't stop thinking about him, no matter what I do. Normally I come home from the coffee shop and continue writing, at least until Mother gets home. It makes me nervous that she never gets home at a set time. Instead her arrival is dependent on what she is doing that day, but I can manage it. I write until she gets home, then I clean the house at her insistence and then I cook dinner. After dinner I clean my room from top to bottom, and then I write again.

But I haven't been writing this afternoon, instead I've been thinking, daydreaming. I normally try to not leave much time for myself to think, I get myself too worked up and it usually ends badly, with a panic attack or just a regular Bella freak out. But thinking about Edward is different. It's relaxing, fun, calming. It's all I've been able to do all afternoon.

I hear the door downstairs. Mother is home. I can usually tell what mood she's in by how she shuts the front door. She slams it. Hard. That's not good. I stand reluctantly from my seat at my desk and grab up my notebook, which only has one additional page added from when I was writing at the coffee shop. I hope Mother won't notice.

I can see her in the doorway as I come down the stairs. My socked feet are silent on the polish, smooth, shiny wooden floor of the staircase, my hand clutching the cold metal railing that's attached to the glass wall that edges the stair on the open side. Everything in the downstairs in shiny and new looking, in different shades of black and white, or made of glass. The furniture was very boxy, all square edges and sharp corners. I don't like it, can barely tolerate it. Luckily I've decorated my room to how I like it. When we moved in two years ago, Mother told me it was 'hip' and 'trendy'. All I knew was it was going to take me an age to get back into my routines in this new environment. I've only just gotten into the swing of it. Only in the last few months have I been able to get through a day without a freak out.

When I reach the base of the stairs Mother is still in the process of dropping her handbag on the small table by the door and slipping off her high wedge shoes. Her naturally brown, but now dyed blonde hair is perfectly straightened and flowing down her back. Her skin is a dark tanned, hedging on orange and she has a pair of large dark glasses hiding her blue eyes. They say Mother and I have the same face, except for our eyes. And the obviously fake skin color. My skin stays pale no matter what. Mothers dress in colorful and floaty, emphasizing her slim figure and perfectly matched to the desert heat.

As Mother settles her shoes down, she wobbles a bit on her feet. She's been drinking again. I've never really thought about what she does during the day, but more often than not she comes back like this. She's meaner when she's like this.

Before I can even think about it more, her gaze swings round and settles on me, and my brain locks down. Mother has that effect on me.

"What are you looking at?" Her voice is sharp and cold, it pierces me down to the bone. I realize I'm studying her movements more closely today than usual, so I drop my gaze quickly to the floor. There's an uneven pattern in the wooden floor. It's bothering me. " Well?" She wants an answer. That's new.

"N...n...noth...nothing."

She snorts at my stutter and I can feel myself blush. She's always been right about me. I can't even say a sentence without my constant nervousness making a physical appearance. She stumbles forward and throws her hand out at me. "Well, pass it over, let me see it." I hand over me notebook slowly, reluctantly. This is my least favorite part of the day, the time when my notebook is out of my hands, out of my reach. As soon as she snatches it from me my palms start sweating and my breathing starts to accelerate. I can hear Mother flicking through the pages almost violently. Then silence.

Slowly I look up and see that she's staring right at me with a look so angry it hikes up my anxiety tenfold.

"Ten pages... You only wrote TEN PAGES!" I don't like her yelling. I don't like it. I don't like it. "What the hell is this shit you useless girl. You usually write three times this." she flips the page again with such ferocity that my worst nightmare happened.

I hear the page rip.

That's the last straw. I sink to the floor at the base of the stairs, pulling my knees to my chest as my hands work their way into my hair and pull. And pull. And pull. Mother is still standing over me, looking down at me. I can feel her. And I can hear her. "You useless freak." The venom in her voice sinks into me as I hear her foots disappear into the kitchen. I now switch my focus to the uneven pattern in the floorboard. The mismatch swirl of grains in the wood. I don't know how I haven't noticed it before. Maybe I have, and I just continue to wipe it from my memory each time so it doesn't bug me. There's only one thing I can do to get past it. '_Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be...' _I struggle hard to calm down, to stop tugging, to get up. It works eventually. After an hour on the floor I'm tired and stiff, but I know I can't rest, can't go back to writing, unless I tidy and reorder everything that Mother has obliterated on her re-entry.

I start at the front door, placing her shoes in the closet, upright and in line with her numerous other pairs. I stand her handbag up, making it even and tidy. I then move to the kitchen. Mother has gone up to her room at some point. She would have had to step over me. That doesn't surprise me. She's left a trail on dirty dishes and sandwich ingredients behind her. I rinse the dishes and stack them in the dishwasher before putting the different foods in their right place in the fridge. The lounge reveals no damage. The hurricane force that is my Mother didn't touch down there. The ugly, uncomfortable black leather couches are still at perfect right angles to each other, in line with the ridiculously enormous television. Breathing a sigh of relief I turn back towards the stairs.

I see my notebook. I think I might have been ignoring it up till now, but there it is. I rush over to it and scoop it up, hoping that my mind had imagined the bone chilling sound of tearing paper. The book falls open to my last page to show it lying slightly askew, a long jagged rip going up from the bottom near the spine. It stops just over half way up, causing the entire page to shift, poking out the side from all the others. I carefully shift the page back in line and close the notebook again.

Sometimes I don't understand how she can do these things. Everything I've learnt as I've grown up indicates that parents are supposed to love their children. But Mother has never loved me. And I know that her love the thing I want most in the world: her love, her kindness, or even just her acceptance. But I never get it. It's times like these when I know she's right.

No one could ever love me.

Emotions swirl in me. Emotions I can't understand, have never learnt or been taught how to decipher. I was always told that I didn't have emotions, I don't possess the capability. So in times like these I block them out, bury them. Under the blocks and shields I've built up my entire life.

I bring up these blocks one by one as a make my way up the 14 stairs to the second floor, but not before a single tear falls down my cheek.

* * *

This is the time for me to write. My room is tidy. I've cooked, served and cleaned up dinner. I've gone through my nightly hygiene routines. Now is when I usually pull out my notebook and continue to spew my precious words onto the clean, blank pages. However, there is a big problem.

The page is ripped.

I can't do it. I can't get passed the fact that it's broken. My notebook is broken. But it's also not complete, so I can't move onto a new one till I've finished this one. I'm stuck in an infinite loop, I can't move forward or back. All I seem to be able to do is sit here and stare at my notebook until it's my bedtime. And then I crawl into bed, my brain shuts off and I finally get a rest from all the swirling turmoil inside me.

My night was so hectic, that I fall asleep without even sparing a thought for the mysterious stranger with crazy hair and green eyes.

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**Ok, so there's a lot of internal Bella-Angst going on at the moment. There should be more interaction in the next few chapters.**

**Thanks for reading ;)**


	3. Wednesday

**Here is chapter 3! I apologise for my strange updating schedule. I post them as I write them, and I try to have at least 3000 words a chapter so it usually takes me a bit over a week to churn them out. This time schedule may increase as my workload does, but lucky for you guys at the moment, writing this is far more interesting than doing my coursework!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. a few things are revealed, and there's a bit of fluff :)**

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Chapter 3- Wednesday

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"Large hot chocolate please." Angela's working again today. Tomorrows' her day off. And Sunday. As I begin to pull out my exact change she interrupts me.

"It's already been ordered for you sweetie, I'll bring it over to you soon." I'm confused. I try to push my money towards her but she shakes her head. It's not an angry head shake. She's smiling. "That kind gentleman over there paid for it." she points behind me. I turn and see the person sitting the the armchair across from mine. He's smiling and, when he sees me looking, waves. His smile widens as I feel a blush paint my face.

Edward.

I'm not sure what to do now. I have money that I no longer need to use. What do I do with it? And do I go and sit with him again? Talk to him? I'm confused, and disconcerted. Looking up at Angela, I see her smile has fallen a bit. I like Angela. I decide to ask her for help.

"What do I do?"

She looks stunned at my question.

"Umm, well, did you like talking to him yesterday?" I think for a second before slowly nodding my head. I did like it yesterday.

"Edward's nice, he actually talks to me."

Angela looks surprised at this, whether from what said or that fact that I'm actually talking to her, I'm not sure.

"Ok, good. Well do you want to sit and talk with him again today?" I nod again. "Well then you go over there and sit down and talk with him. Say hello. Thank him for the drink. And then maybe talk to him about his life. Or share something about yourself, tell him about your life. And go from there, ok?"

"Ok...but.." I pause. I don't know why this is bothering me, it never has before, but I have to ask. "What if he doesn't like me?"

She gathers up my change and hands it back to me. "Just be yourself Bella. If he likes you, he likes you. If he doesn't, he doesn't."

I don't know what that means. But regardless, I turn and start towards my chair. Edward is still there. He hasn't left since I last looked over. I almost expected him to. But there he sits, looking happy and pretty and perfect. What did Angela call him? Handsome. Edward is Handsome.

He continues to smile at me with his pretty, handsome smile. "Hello Bella, how are you today?"

"Hello." That's what Angela told me to say. Should I add something else? He did ask me a question, I perhaps in this situation is appropriate. "I'm fine thanks." He nods, gesturing to my seat. I've been standing, trying to focus on our interaction, on not saying the wrong thing. I settle down in my chair and face him. He's in a black suit today, with a dark green shirt that matches his eyes. I stare at it because I really like the color of his eyes, but can't bring myself to meet his gaze. I try to remember what Angela said. Conversation starters.

"Th...thank you for ordering my hot chocolate."

"You're welcome Bella. I was going to order you something to eat as well, but I figured, since you didn't have anything to eat yesterday, that you don't usually eat here."

I smile. He payed attention to me yesterday, remembers that I didn't eat. It makes me feel... noticed, considered. "No, I don't usually eat anything here."

Angela comes over, her hands full with our drinks. For me, my hot chocolate, with two marshmallows and symmetrical chocolate syrup. For Edward, a tiny fancy coffee cup but, instead of holding dark, black liquid as I expect, it's filled to the brim with perfectly white foam.

"A hot chocolate for you Bella and a steamer for the gentleman." says Angela as she gently places the cups down in front of us, a cheeky smile on her face. "Enjoy."

Edward reaches forward and picks up the delicate little vessel, his long fingers seemingly engulfing it. "I had a craving for one after you mentioned it yesterday, my niece always insists I have one whenever she does." I can't help but smile back at him. He sounds like he loves her very much. It makes me ache for someone to love me, or for there to be someone for me to love. Both sound appealing, but frighteningly unattainable.

My sudden sombre mood doesn't last long. Edward takes a sip from his cup then lowers it, leaving behind a large white stripe of foam across his upper lip. There's no hope of containing my laughter. It springs out of me, bouncing around in the air between us. Edward joins in, his wide shoulders shaking and his eyes twinkling with mischief.

As my laughter settles to a round of tittering giggles, Edward surprises me once more. "You have a beautiful laugh Bella. You should laugh more often."

My gaze snaps to his, his admission catching me off guard. When my eyes meet his I can't seem to look away. He has that effect on me, is perhaps the only person I've ever been comfortable holding eye contact with. Our laughter has died. Instead the air is heavy and charged, his eyes smoldering as they bore into mine. Before I can think, I see his tongue peek out of his mouth and quickly swipes across his top lip, collecting the foam and drawing it back in, his adam's' apple bobbing as he swallows. His lip is now slightly moist, glistening in the light. It's mesmerizing, my gaze now firmly settled on his rosy, pouty lips.

What am I doing?

He probably thinks I'm weird again. Of course, my blush makes an appearance again, as I try to focus on anything but his perfect features. I can't help but sigh. All this interaction is tiring for me.

"Are you ok." I try to focus on him again.

"Yes...I just, I...I sometimes don't know how to act...around you." Well, they always say honesty is the best policy.

"Bella, can you do me a favour?'

"Yes." Anything.

"I only ever want you to be yourself. I would hope that you would be comfortable with that all the time, but especially around me. Can you do that?"

I can feel the smile stretching across my face. It feels good. I nod shyly, and relax. He wants me, only me. I can do that...I think.

I remember what Angela said.

"Tell me about your life." Edward chuckles.

"What do you want to know?" I look up to meet his gaze. It still makes me nervous to do this, but I'm getting better at it.

"Everything." His eyes light up.

"Well ok then."

And so he tells me everything. He starts with his family. His older brother Emmett, who coaches high school football and is built like a yeti, with the temperament of a teddy bear. Emmett's wife Rosalie who, despite looking like the ultimate trophy wife, owns and runs her own Mechanics garage. Their adorable daughter Lexie, who idolises Edward and is the instigator of the Steamers. His younger sister Alice is a fashion designer fresh out of College, working towards opening her own boutique, is happily and newly engaged to her boyfriend/best friend since age 8, Jasper. And finally he talks about his parents. Loving and sweet Esme, famous for her roast dinners and chocolate chip cookies, always ready with a hug whenever they come home, at any age. It sparks a yearning in me, an ache for a mother figure that I've always been missing. But, at the same time, I know that I will only ever have one mother, and she will never change.

"My father and I are very close, we even work at the same hospital." His words make me freeze.

"You...you're a doctor?" My hands begin to quiver a bit, I don't like doctors. He notices my reaction immediately, his brow furrows.

"No, I just work at the hospital. Are you..."

I interrupt him. "I don't like doctors. Or hospitals."

"Can I ask why?" I nod.

"Everythings white. The walls, the roof, the doctors coats. And everyone's rushing everywhere. It's too busy. I can't focus on anything and all the movement and motion and bustling confuses me. And the doctors, they treat me like..." Do I really want to explain this?

"Like...?" he enquires. He wants me to keep going. He wants to know what I have to say.

"They...they treat me like something to study. To prod and discuss, but they never talk to me. They talk about me to each other, or to Mother, but never to me and...they always want to try and fix me." I try to hold them in, I swear, but my eyes have a mind of their own as they well with tears. "I don't want to be fixed, I just want to be left alone."

Edward looks...sad. Really sad. Like he almost wants to cry as well. I don't want to cry. I don't want this to affect me so much. But it does.

"And what are they trying to fix? What do they think is so horrible that they have to make you feel so...damaged?"

I take a deep breath. I can do this. "They call it...Aspergers. It's..."

"...a form of Autism. I know." Silence.

"What do you mean you know?" He lets out a sigh.

"I mean, I had guessed it might be that. It fit. The lack of eye contact was a big give away, although," he ducks his head down to peak at me through my shield of hair, my eyes meeting his almost immediately, "you seem to be getting better at that." I match his smile. "Then there's the routines, and schedules and your unwillingness to break from them." Now I'm embarrassed again. "Also, sometimes you seem a bit confused at things I say or do, which seems to tell me that you struggle to read and understand social cues." I nod. Everything he says is true, is what the doctors have been talking about for years. It makes me feel like a failure. I can't even be a proper human being. Before I can continue to dwell on it, he's talking again. His voice immediately draws me back in.

"I've also noticed that you have beautiful hair."

...What?

"At first it looks quite ordinary, a nice dark brown. But, when the sun hits it, it shows up with deep tones of red. It's...gorgeous."

I feel my breathing hitch as I process what he saying. It almost sounds like he, dare I say it, finds me...attractive?

He's looking at me, searching for my reactions. I can tell. Maybe he thinks he's going to scare me off? I'm not sure. Surprisingly I don't feel like running away. He has that odd effect on me. I'm comfortable around him, and I'm comfortable with his praise, his admiration. Before I can overthink things, I reply with the most honest truth I can find.

"You have really pretty eyes. And hair. I like your hair." He chuckles.

"Thank you Bella."

"If you're not a doctor, what do you do?" A change of topic sounds like a good idea.

"I'm an administration and financial specialist." My eyebrows furrow.

"That means I look after the financial issues with the hospital, such as where our funding comes from and what we use it for. Like wages, and equipment. For example, I'm in town now because Phoenix Memorial hospital just purchased a new version of an MRI machine. I've come down to have a look at it, maybe have a little play around, to see if we should invest in one too." My stomach plummets.

"We being..."

"Seattle West Hospital. I'm only here on business."

"Oh...When do you go home?" He sighs. Is he sad?

"I go back on Saturday."

"Saturday? But that's only..."

"Three days away. I know. Before I came on this trip I was reluctant to leave home but now...I'm not sure I want to go back."

I hope it's because of me. Please let it be because of me.

"I want to get to know you better Bella. I enjoy spending time with you." He is being so honest and open, his voice so sincere in what he is saying, that I just know he's telling me the truth.

"I enjoy spending time with you too." I say.

God I love his smile.

* * *

"You haven't done any writing today."

I had almost forgotten about my broken notebook until he mentions it, I'd been pushing it out of my mind. Now I glance down at it, sitting innocently on my lap.

"It's broken." Edward looks puzzled.

"What's broken? Your hand?" Before I can correct him he lurches to his feet and moves round the coffee table, dragging his chair with him. When he sits down again, his chair is right next to mine, the arms touching and his long legs angled towards me. Before I can blink, his long fingers grasp my wrist and gently pulls it towards him. He turns my hand over, gently prodding my wrist and flexing my fingers. It feels so good, his touch calming me and his gentle manipulations making me feel relaxed and almost lethargic.

"It doesn't look broken." Edward mutters as he reaches for my other wrist to continue his examination. When he finds nothing wrong with that one as well, he looks up at me. I can't help but giggle at how adorably confused looks.

"My hands are fine, it's my notebook that's broken."

Edward looks a bit embarrassed when I say that, a little smile appearing on his face and cheeks going slightly pink.

"Oh, well, do you want me to have a look at that instead?"

I hesitate. No one sees my notebook except for me, and Mother when I finish one. As soon it's full, Mother takes my notebook and gives me a new one. She takes my old one into her office and spends her time in there with it for the next few days. Afterwards she puts it on my bookshelf with my other notebooks, and goes back to her usual routine of fancy lunches and late night parties. The few days that Mother has my Notebook are are always the worst for me. Before now I've never really thought about why she takes them, or what she does. For the first time I'm finding myself suspicious about her motives. What is so important that she insists on taking them from me? Especially when she knows it makes me nervous and agitated.

Not that she cares.

But this is Edward. Even though I only met him yesterday I already trust him more than I've ever trusted anyone. Especially Mother. My decision made, I pick up my notebook and hand it to him. I can see the edge of the crooked page sticking out. Edward handles it gently, he seems to understand how important it is to me. He flips it open to the rip and inspects it.

"I could patch it up with a bit of tape if you want."

"You would do that?"

"Sure. I mean, it won't be perfect, but I can tape it up here near the spine so the page is in line with the others."

"Yes please. I just want it to be in line. It needs to be symmetrical. Then I can write again." I nod, resolutely. This will work. All I need is for it to be straight again.

Edward hands my notebook back to me and heads towards the counter. I can see him talking to Angela, asking her something. She glances over at me quickly before nodding and pulling a roll of tape and a pair of scissors out from under the counter.

Before I know it he's back sitting next to me, notebook back on his lap. I watch as he carefully matches up the page in the right place and cuts a piece of tape. As he carefully smoothes out the piece of tape over the rip, I can see that it's not going to be perfect, just as he said. But it's in line, held together. I'm not sure why I didn't think of doing that myself last night. But now as he hands it back to me, I can feel the itch to write flood back into my fingers, and I know that it's going to work. I run my hand over the page, feeling the join between the rough paper and the smooth tape.

"Thank you, Edward." My voice is quiet, almost a whisper. I glance up to meet his gaze, his gorgeous eyes burning into me with a passion.

"Your welcome Bella." His hand is sitting on the armrest of my chair. Without giving myself time to overthink it, I place my hand on top of his. The gentle skin makes me feel so alive. He turns his hand over to grasp mine, meshing our fingers together. The heat of his hand is indescribable. I don't want to let go.

So I don't.

We keep holding hands for the rest of the morning, with no words being said. I write passionately with my other hand and Edward pulls over his briefcase and pulls out some documents to peruse, all without breaking our ironclad grasp.

I could get used to this.

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**Yes, this is a Bella with Autism fic. The idea has been floating around in my head for a while, but I really got the urge to write it after reading the fic Win Some, Lose Some, by Savage7289. It's an amazing fic and I highly recommend it!**

**Thanks for reading. **


	4. Thursday

**Hey everyone!**  
**Sorry for the giant break between updates. Life and classes has been hectic! My home situation is disintegrating, I'm on the verge of losing one of my best friends, no matter how much I try to fix things with her and my Uni classes are whipping my butt this semester, so lets just say my world is a bit... strenuous at the moment.**

**Anywhore, here's the next chapter. It's a bit of a filler chapter, but I'm trying to subtly reveal some things able Bella's sometimes strange thought processes..let me know if I succeeded :)**

**On another note, I did the completely self-absorbed thing of making a facebook profile for myself (HiddenSecret Fanfiction) and also made a page for my stories (Hidden Secret's Stories). So friend me and like my page if you're keen for me to throw random things into your life, or if you want to bug me to update!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 4 - Thursday**

I don't bother to pull out my change today as I enter the coffee shop. I anticipate the same situation as yesterday. As I wander in, I can see Edward in the corner, leaning casually back into his armchair, reading the paper again. He looks up and sees me, raising a hand to wave me over. Glancing over to the counter I see Mike behind the counter. I don't like Mike. There's only two days a week that Angela doesn't work, and only on those days do I have to deal with Mike. He makes me more nervous, which makes me stutter, and then he gets annoyed when I take too long to place my order. I'd rather not have to deal with him.

Instead of going over and trying to get Mike's attention- he always has his head down, doing stuff on his phone- I decide to go straight over to my chair. Hopefully Edward has ordered me my hot chocolate.

"Hello Bella, how are you today?"

He looks so nice today. It looks like he's tried to tame his hair, but he just made it angry. It's sticking up even worse than it usually does. He's not wearing his jacket, instead just a nice white shirt and black pants. His tie is loosened and I can see his jacket resting on the floor next to his brief case.

"I'm fine, how are you."

He gives me cheeky grin. "Better now you're here." I can't help but blush. I feels weird that someone is admitting to wanting to spend time with me. That fact that he was looking forward to seeing me makes me feel special. I settle in my chair across from him once again, an addition to my routine that I have grown to love in only two days.

There's a small voice in my head that's telling me that this won't last, that it's only temporary. On Saturday he goes back to Seattle, and he'll probably never think of me again.

With that thought, I start to fiddle with my hands. Thinking about it hurts, so I flip open my notebook, my newly fixed notebook, and continue where I left off. If it bothers Edward that I'm not talking today, he doesn't mention it. It's a comfortable silence though, one that makes me feel relaxed and content.

Soon enough Mike wanders over to place our drinks down. He looks at me curiously, his eyes flicking between me and Edward, before shrugging and walking away again. Today I'm determined to have at least some of my drink before it goes cold. For the past few days I've been so preoccupied that I forget it's there.

One look at my drink, however, and I consider just leaving it. While Angela always does the chocolate swirls perfectly symmetrical, Mike never bothers to do this for me. I'm sure he knows how I prefer it, as I've overheard Angela explain it to him numerous times, but he never does. I let out a sigh in frustration, and try to figure out how to proceed. Usually I would leave it, but I haven't had a hot chocolate for the past two days, and I find that I miss them.

"Bella?" He's asking me something, I can tell by the way he says my name. As always, he knows what I'm thinking and elaborates for me. "Tell me what's wrong."

I barely even hesitate. "The syrup is asymmetrical. Mike always does it asymmetrical. I can't..." I try again to explain. I have to try and get this out. "Usually, I wouldn't drink it. I'd just wait until tomorrow, when Angela's working. But I really wanted to drink it today and that's weird for me."

His eyebrows furrow as he answers. "Weird? Weird how?" I struggle to find the words to explain, but when I start I find that it all flows out.

"My life is... is dictated by my routines." I hesitate again, but one look at his face and I know he'll listen, and not judge. "They tell me when to get up, when to eat, when to sleep. I can't help but follow them, or else I freak out and end up having panic attacks. Don't get me wrong, I understand that some deviations are necessary. But it all comes back to my routines in the end. They're built around my need for structure and order, I understand that. I've always understood that, even if some people seem to think I'm too stupid to realise that how I act isn't exactly normal."

"Hey, what did I say about that word?" Edwards scolding was lighthearted, a slight smile on his face. I can't help but smile in return. It seems he can make everything better.

"Ok fine, how I act doesn't conform to social standards." I raise an eyebrow at him, and he concedes to my amended statement. "But recently, I've been noticing some changes. Such as..." I take a deep breath, trying to untangle my thoughts. "I'm finding that I want to do things that don't fit into my routines. And the only reason I can come up with to explain why I want to do these things is...I want to. Like my hot chocolate. Usually I wouldn't drink it because it doesn't match up to my need for symmetry, but I really want to today. I want to because I like the taste, and not because my inner monologue is telling me to. I don't know what to think of it. It feels strange."

He thinks for a minute before answering. "I think that's a good thing. It means you're growing, trying to expand out of your old habits. And even if it feels weird, I think you should try and go along with these new feelings."

I contemplate this as I stare at my cup. I really want it. It's still hot, I can see the steam curling up off the surface of the foam. Before I can second guess myself I grab the teaspoon resting next to it and carefully stir the top layer of foam, thoroughly mixing the chocolate syrup into the drink. When I'm done, there's no hint of syrup, just plain foam. It's like a switch has been flipped. As easy as pie, I plop in the two marshmallows and take a long sip. I can taste the strong, bitter chocolate mixed with the sweetness of the marshmallows. The foam is light in my mouth and the liquid hot and heavy as it spreads heat throughout my body. I've never enjoyed my hot chocolate this much. It's like before this, it was a chore, a job to drink it and then keep going with my day. But now, I don't want it to end. It tastes so good, like I'm tasting it for the first time.

I hold the mug with both hands, wrapping fingers around it and soaking in the excess heat. Even though it's blazing with heat outside the coffee shop, I curl myself up in my chair, bringing my legs up and tucking them to my chest, as if to protect and savior the feelings surging through me.

For the first time today, I meet Edwards gaze. It makes me catch my breath every time. My notebook is resting next to me, lodged between my leg and the arm of the chair. Usually I would pull it out about now and lose myself again, but today I don't want to. It's another one of these new feelings. I'm getting used to them, slowly but surely.

Edward motions to my notebook. "Do you want to do some writing?" I shake my head. He tries again. "Do you want to talk?" Bingo. At my nod he grins. "Well miss, I think it's time for me to learn a bit more about you, seeing as you learnt so much about me yesterday." I'm not too sure about this. I still can't believe he wants to talk to me, let alone get to know me. It's like he can sense my hesitation before even I can. "Don't worry, I'll start off easy, and if you don't want to answer you don't have to." Sounds simple enough. I take a long sip from my mug then lean over to place it gently on the table, bringing my arms back to wrap around my legs. I'm ready.

"Ok first off...what's your name?"

I'm confused. "Umm...Bella?"

"No silly, your full name."

"Oh, um...Isabella Marie Swan."

"Birthday?"

"September 13th."

"Age?"

"21."

"Goal in life?"

...well that escalated quickly.

"Um, I've never really thought past the next day. I've never needed to, or wanted to. The thought of so many things in the future being undecided, not planned out, is just...unsettling to me." This makes him smile a little. I think he probably gets it by now. Routines = good.

"Well then what about a life dream. Something you've always wanted to do. There must be something you've thought of."

"Well... I want to..." My voice level drops, trying to disguise my answer.

"...Fall in love."

I can't look at him. I've just told him something that I've never told anyone before, my deepest secret, my most precious desire.

I may not be good with social interactions, but that doesn't mean I don't crave what everyone else does. I want to find someone. Someone who will love me for me, and want to spend the rest of their life with me. I want someone who understands me, and I want the undeniable connection and passion that comes with that bond. I've read about it, seen it in movies and on TV. Occasionally I even see it in person, when a couple comes into the coffee shop that are so in love and enamored with each other. Maybe I can find someone to love me like that, to replace the love that I've never gotten from Mother.

I've seen Mother search for it too. Every six months or so she goes through a new boy toy, always claiming that this is the one, and that she's going to rope him in. But in nevers proceeds past that first, nauseating stage of her relationship cycle. She always starts with sex, without fail. If they pass that test, she tries her darndest to propel them to the alter. Then they either wise up and escape while they can, or Mother gets bored and moves onto some other poor sucker. She used to go for the rich, married ones, but that was before we moved into the big house. Recently it's been a string of worthless losers that look like models, but have the mental capacity and integrity of an ape.

I decided a long time ago that there is no guarantee of someones love unless they're married. Without marriage, all you've got is misguided hope and nothing to hold on to. Mother was married to my Father at one point, and he loved her. But now, her relationships are hollow, pointless. I always thought that unless I'm married to someone, no one will ever really love me. They won't stick around. Without marriage, nothing is set in stone.

Then Edward appeared, the first person to ever try to get to know me. Really get to know me. Sure there was a string of doctors at one stage who all thought they could become my best friend and find a way to 'get through to me' and 'cure' me. But none of them were sincere. I'm starting to think Edward really likes talking to me, especially seeing as this is the third day in a row he's been here. And I can't help think that maybe he's the exception to the rule.

But no. He's going to leave me as well. He's leaving in two days, and then I'll never see him again. It just goes to show that without marriage, you can't trust anyone. However I'm too invested in Edward to stop. There's no way I can give this up, even though I only have a little time left with him. Before he leaves me. Before he goes home and forgets about me.

I'm so focussed on my own thoughts and trying to avoid looking at Edward that his reply startles me a bit.

"You will, some day." I let out a very unattractive snort of derision. My voice comes out bitter.

"What makes you so certain?"

"Because anyone who misses the chance to get to know you is a fool." His reply seems so honest that I can't help but believe him. Two sides of me are battling. One side wants to give in a launch myself at him, trying to fulfill this need I have to be loved. The other side keeps reminding me that I only get to have him for two more days.

Once again, things get too much. Everythings tumbling and swirling round in my head, making it hard for me to make sense of it. Instead of shutting down again, I divert.

"What's your full name." Edward smiles, as if he knows what my plan is.

"Edward Anthony Cullen."

"How old are you?"

"26."

"Why do you work at a hospital even though you're not a doctor?" He looks a bit thrown off. In some way it's nice to know that I also have the power to stun him into silence, like he seems to do to me so often. He contemplates my question for a second before answering.

"Well, I was PreMed in college, trying to follow in the footsteps of my father. I thought my parents would be more proud of me if I did, even though the whole time they were telling me to do what I love. I managed to graduate in three years, and went straight to Medical school. I did the first two years, but when I started my clinical rotations I realised that I wasn't really where I wanted to be. I guess I found it hard to look at all the people that were sick and dying and try to tell myself that we can only do so much. I stuck with it for a bit, but my pediatrics rotation was my undoing. After a very public breakdown, my Dad convinced me that I wasn't really happy. So, I dropped out."

"What? You just dropped out and they didn't mind?" His face lights up in a sweet smile.

"As I said before, all my parents want is for me to be happy. They love me no matter what I decide to do with my life."

"But..." All I can think about is what Mother would say if I did something against her wishes, or I did something she didn't approve of. She would definitely not be happy.

"Bella, there is one very important thing you should know." I can't help but look up at him. His expression his so serious, but his eyes are still light and kind. Not like Mothers eyes. Mothers eyes are always cold or angry. He leans towards me, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Parents should always love their children unconditionally, no matter what. If they don't, they're not very good parents."

I let his words sink in for a bit. It's hard to believe them at first, but the way he says them makes me think. I always thought that it was my fault Mother never loved me. I tried to be good for her, but no matter what I did she was always angry or annoyed at me. It never really occured to me that the fault might be on her end. I always compared Mother to other families and the only difference I could ever see...was me.

"It's different though. I'm different." I try to explain to him. "She can't love me, because no one can."

Edward sits back, shaking his head.

"I don't believe that."

I have to change the subject.

"What'd you do after you dropped out of Med school?"

He's caught on by now, he knows about my diversion mechanisms. But he indulges me.

"I went back to college. When I studied originally my Minor was Accounting. I'd always been really good with numbers. I went back and finished a degree and Accounting and Management. I graduated just last year, and went straight to working at the hospital. I still get to help people, in the best way I can. With numbers." I can't help but match his smile. "My medical background is perfect, because I can come on trips like this and be able to decide, not only if we can afford the equipment, but if the equipment is what we really need for the health of our patients."

"You really love your job." It was so obvious, his enthusiasm was intoxicating. His smile gets even wider.

"I really do."

I can't help but think over everything he's said. Some things still baffle me. But it's clear that he loves his parents and, from the way he talks about them, I know they love him too. I can't help but hope that what he says is true. That it's Mother's fault that she doesn't love me, not mine. It's weird to think this, and I'm not entirely sure that I believe it yet, but I know that if anyone could convince me it was true, it would be Edward.

It's another little change in my thought process, one that joins all the others I've had since meeting Edward.

"Hey Edward?" He meets my gaze unflinchingly.

"Yes Bella?"

"I think..." I swallow quickly, trying to get the words out. "I don't think Mother is a very good parent."

Edward pauses for a minute before smiling gently at me, his eyes becoming glazed and watery, full of emotion. He stands up, and I can't help but think he's going to leave me, just after I've had this big epiphany. Instead, he pulls his chair around the coffee table like yesterday. He sits down again, then gently picks up my hand to lace his fingers in between my own. I can't help but grasp his hand tightly, clinging to it like a lifeline. Almost against my control my head drops down to rest gently on his shoulder. I can feel him lean his own head on mine as he breathes out a sigh and whispers quietly into my hair.

"I don't think she is either."

* * *

**Thats all from me. Remember, check me out Facebook!**

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	5. Friday Morning

**Hello everyone!**

**First off, I want to say thank you to ****awesomeness33**** and ****Freedom of Creation**** for reading, review and most of all selecting Normality to be one of the Fanfictions of the week on their forum! It was so awesome to see someone enjoying so much. Thank you!**

**On another note, as I said in the last chapter, I've started up a facebook profile for me, HiddenSecret Fanfiction. Add me as a friend if you wanna chat or convince me to update more! I've also got a page you can like called Hidden Secret's Stories :)**

**Thats all from me. Enjoy :)**

* * *

Normality 5 - Friday Morning

* * *

Tomorrow. Edward goes home tomorrow.

That's all I can think as I enter the coffee shop and head towards our corner. Our corner, which used to be my corner, and will become my corner again after tomorrow. I don't want him to go but I know there's no way I can get him to stay.

As always, Edward looks perfect. He isn't reading the paper today, instead he has a thick stack of paper covered in small font typing. It looks like a report of some sort. Edward is very focussed, his eyes flying across the page and him brow furrowed in concentration. I can't help but think he looks very cute, with his tousled Crazy-Hair falling slightly into his eyes, his light blue shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He still doesn't notice me as I approach.

Before I can stop myself, I lean over and gently push a few strands of hair away from his eyes. When he looks up to meet my gaze his face softens into a light smile. As I try to pull my hand away, slightly mortified by my forward actions, he snags in the pulls it down towards him. Before I can think he places a quick, light kiss on the palm of my hand, so light it feels like a small gust of air, sending tingles down my fingers. My breathing hitches, and I can't seem to pull my eyes away from his.

"Good Morning, Beautiful."

My blush is instant. "Hi." I chew on my lip to try and hide my embarrassed smile. Upon the realisation that I'm still standing over him I move round to my chair and sit down. Although his greeting is sweet, I can't help but wonder if he means it. I've never been called beautiful before. I was called pretty once, but never beautiful. I'm too plain and boring. My clothes aren't fancy, my shoes are just scruffy trainers and I don't wear any makeup at all. I wouldn't know what to do with the stuff.

Glancing around the store, I study the other patrons. They all look so much...better than me. I can't help but pay attention to the two girls across the room from us. They look to be about my age. One is wearing a dress, bright and colourful with flowers on it. Her hair is long, straight and blonde, falling around her shoulders. The other has shiny black hair, tied in a perfect ponytail, and is wearing a knee length skirt and a tank top. They both look beautiful, laughing together over their drinks and chatting excitedly. He should be calling them beautiful, not me.

I can't help but fiddle with the hem of my shirt. My boring, plain shirt. It's royal blue today, but the same style as every day. Plain shirt, one size too big. My jeans are slightly baggy too. I've never been one for tight clothing. Not since I hit puberty at least. It's easier that way. I don't want to call attention to myself. Not like Mother does all the time.

"Bella. Look at me."

I don't want to. I don't want to face him. He's so perfect and handsome and sweet. I can feel myself sinking again, into that place, the place that I used to visit so often before I met Edward. My visits have become less frequent lately. I'm trying to stop it but all I can think is that I don't deserve to be here with Edward, and even if I did deserve it, deserve him, he's going to be gone tomorrow anyway.

"Bella!"

I look up finally. He looks concerned, and I realise it's because I've somehow pulled up my legs to my chest without realising it and I'm rocking slightly, back and forth. The repetitive movement is usually soothing, but it doesn't seem to be helping. I fist my hand in my ponytail and tug firmly, matching my pulling to my rocking. In some part of the confused brain I recognise that I'm embarrassed for him to see me like this, so broken and exposed. But on another level I've reached a point of numbness. Everything's locked away and I've become as emotionless as the doctors believe me to be.

This time is different to my other times. Usually I go numb, and then I go under. I go blank for a while and I don't remember anything afterwards, other than the choking blackness. This time I'm still here. I can still see and hear things. Most importantly I can see Edward, but his face is a lot closer than it was a minute ago. I realise it's because at some point he has moved around the table to kneel in front of me.

He looks so concerned. All I can do is stare at his face, at the worry wrinkles on his forehead, the misty green eyes, at the hypnotizing movement of his lips. I can hear the soothing buzz of his voice in the background, but I can't make out what he's saying.

I've given up fighting it now. I'll just have to ride it out, till the numbness goes away, till I can function again.

I can also see Angela in the background. She comes over and talks to Edward quietly. She looks concerned as well, but not as much as Edward. This is nothing she hasn't seen before. I think she has explained to Edward what's happening, because he grabs his chair and brings it around next to me, like yesterday. Next minute I vaguely feel his fingers grasp my wrist and unclasp my fingers from my ponytail. He threads my fingers between his own, placing a gentle kiss on the outside of my hand, before gently resting them on the arm of my chair.

I love the feel of his hand in mine, the warmth of his skin, the softness of his palm. I could get used to it, addicted to it even. I ride out the numbness, with him at my side.

* * *

"I'm not beautiful."

Edward starts at the sound of my voice. He's been staring at me. I've been 'awake' for a few minutes now. Instead of letting him know, I've been taking deep breathes, concentrating on the air in my lungs and trying to keep calm. As I speak I can feel that my lip is tender. I've been biting it again. I need to make sure I stop that, or I'll draw blood. I have in the past.

I'm tired. These episodes often wipe me out. I hate that I don't know what will trigger them. Sometimes it's something big that gets me, such as a major change in my routine or an outburst from Mother. But other times, like today, it's just a case of me overthinking things and becoming overwhelmed because of my own stupid brain. When my differences just seem too big, and no matter what, I can't fit in with the people around me.

I can't help but rest my head against Edwards shoulder. When I lean against him like this, it makes me feel supported, like I'm not alone anymore. Gently, he presses his lips to my forehead, giving a sweet, chaste kiss likes ones that I've read about in books. I can't help but sigh in pleasure at the feeling of his lips on me, his warm breath against my skin.

"I think you're beautiful. You're my beautiful Bella."

And just like that, he makes everything ok. My breathing finally settles, my thoughts slow, and my tense muscles relax. I then realise that as long as Edward likes me for who I am, that's all that matters.

* * *

"I don't want you to go." My voice is hard, unflinching. For perhaps the first time in my life, I want to fight for something I want, I want to fight for Edward. I don't know if this feeling will pass, but right now there is nothing I want more in this world than for Edward to stay with me. I feel like if we part today, I will never see him again.

"Bella, you have no idea how much I don't want to leave you." His voice sounds distressed, and I can feel my pain entwining with his. I swivel in my seat to bury my face in his chest, grasping large fistfulls of his shirt in my hands and trying to hold in the tears that want to flow. I've never been one for tears, but I've also never had something that I want to hold on to so vehemently, that I don't want to lose. Edwards arms come up to envelop me, and I feel safe.

"There's nothing I want more than to keep getting to know you, to spend all my time with you. But I have a life in Seattle, and family there as well." At his words, I can feel myself begin to shake. I'm going to miss him so much.

"I would suggest you come with me but..."

I sigh. "I...I can't. I don't think I can..."

"Shhhh. I know. I know you can't. You have your world here. I would never ask you to leave it."

His words settle in me. He so conscious of what I need, it amazes me. I know he would never do anything to upset me, and he understands that it's not just as easy as to pack up and leave for me.

But I wish it was that easy.

For the first time in my life, I wish I wasn't so tethered to this stupid place, to my stupid routines. I wish I could follow Edward, stay with him forever. But because of my stupid brain I can't. It makes me sad, and really angry. Angry because I don't know why I ended up the way I did, why my life is so twisted and strange. Especially when I look at the people around me, and I look at Edward. I want so much to be like them. And I'm sad because the one person who could make me feel like everyone else, is leaving for good.

"You're the only one who makes me feel normal."

We sit for a moment, me in his arms, before he gently nudges my cheek to bring my eyes up to his.

"You have no idea how sad it makes me that you admit that. All I want to do is show you that you're one of the most normal, amazing people I know."

I feel a tear travel down my cheek, then Edward swipes his thumb across to brush it away.

"I'll be back tomorrow Bella. For sure. I'll come and see you before I have to leave to catch my plane. I'll give you my phone number now, so if you ever want to call me, anytime, I'll always be there for you. Ok?"

_No. I want you to stay with me forever. _

"Ok."

Edward nods and leans down to snag a spare piece of paper from his briefcase. With a pen from his pants pocket he proceeds to note down three different numbers, before folding it up to give it to me.

"This has my Cell Phone number, my home number and my parents number. If you can't get hold of me, my parents should know where I am."

"Ok." I take it from him, my hand shaking slightly, and shove it deep into my pocket. I don't want to lose it. Then I grasp his shirt again, and he tightens his arms around me once again. I belong here.

But the place I belong is leaving tomorrow.

Edward is stroking my hair. I can feel his long fingers gently tugging along the strands, stopping just above my hair tie. The repetitive movement of his hand calms me so much that, although I'm drowning in misery, I'm also calm and collected. It amazes me how much he affects me.

"I think it's almost time for you to go home, beautiful."

I know. My internal clock is telling me that it's 11.52, and that it's time to walk the 529 steps home. But I'm still trying to deny the invertible. At my silence, Edward lets out a sad sigh.

"Come on, I'll walk you out. I know that you're probably itching to follow your routines."

He knows me too well already. I reluctantly unclench my fingers from his shirt and stand, dragging my feet on the way to the door. I want to connect myself to Edward again, but he's carrying his jacket and briefcase and I'm gripping my notebook tightly. Angela waves to us on our way out. I notice that she's sad. It makes me feel sad too. I'm noticing her emotions a lot more nowadays. I give her a small wave in return, then hurry out the door.

I automatically start counting the second I'm out the door, but Edward remembers from last time.

"Bella. Wait for a moment. What step are you on?"

I freeze. "Four."

"Ok, I'll remember it for you." He's stands right next to me, and puts down his things so he can take one of my hands and hold it in both of his.

"Please don't worry about this too much Bella." I let out a sarcastic snort. That's going to be impossible. For the moment I try to focus on his fingers as they gently rub my hand, drawing patterns along my skin. "We can keep in contact. You can call me anytime, or if you give me your phone number, I can call you. But I will definately see you tomorrow, without a doubt."

I nod. It's all I can do. There's a lump in my throat at the thought of what tomorrow will bring.

"Hey, it's ok." He rests his forehead against mine gently, and I can't help but swoon. With him so near, I feel comforted and at peace. "We will see each other again. You won't get rid of me that easily, Beautiful." I can't help but give him a watery smile. I feel him shift as he raises his head to press his lips against my forred again. Those sweet kisses will be the death of me.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good afternoon." I'm a bit dazed, so it takes me a minute to reply.

"Bye, Edward." It's comes out breathy, as part of an exhale. He starts to wander down the sidewalk in the opposite direction to my house, but spins around to shoot me a cheeky grin at my discordant farewell.

"You're on step four, my Beautiful Bella."

I grin back, and proceed to count on my way home. My thoughts are jumbled, and now that I'm out of Edwards presence, my panic levels begin to rise again. I try to get myself under control, try to focus on the number incrementing automatically in my mind as I walk.

This time, counting my footsteps isn't enough to settle to torrents of emotions. For the first time in four days, I use my fall back. My tried and true, calm down technique.

_Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be..._

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**This chapter was quite hard for me to write. I always struggle when Bella has episodes like this. But, just a hint, the next chapters going to be even more emotional and angst ridden. I've gotta go try and write that now :s**

**Thanks for reading everyone :)**


	6. Friday Afternoon

**Hello! This is a pretty quick update (for me) and it's probably due to that fact that I have ridiculous amounts of class work that I should be doing, but I keep getting bored and distracting myself with fanfiction. It's probably going to be ages till my next update, but I'll try!**

**This chapter was really tough to write. I'm sure you'll understand why by the end.**

**Oh and, once again, friend me on facebook! HiddenSecret Fanfiction :)**

**And if anyone's interested in doing any banners for me, let me know! my computer skills are severely limited.**

**Enjoy :)**

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Normality 6- Friday Afternoon

* * *

I arrive home only slightly behind schedule, letting out a small sigh of relief as I reach the front door. I always relax a bit when I get home, away from the people and the uncertainness. Even if I've been less happy to leave Edward this week, I still crave the quiet and calmness of my home turf. I'm most comfortable when I'm by myself, although the thought of being alone with Edward isn't horrible.

Reaching the front door I slip my key into the lock and twist, hearing the satisfying sound of the bolt slide open. Before I enter I quickly knock twice on the polished, pristine wood of the door. It's one of my habits. Usually I only do it on the front door of a house I'm going into. Two knocks, no more, no less.

The house is as quiet as I thought it would be. Mother is still occupied with her activities for the day. I breeze through the downstairs, quickly putting things back in their rightful place that may have been moved on Mothers usual whirlwind rush to leave this morning. It only takes me 10 minutes, so I quickly climb the stairs to my room.

I know I should be doing some writing now. I've managed to just barely placate Mother for the last few days, but today I have yet to write a word. I'm close to filling my notebook, but I'm reluctant to finish. I always dread the days when Mother takes my notebook and I have to settle in with writing in a new one. It alway feels strange and wrong for the first few pages.

I find myself sitting at my desk, my notebook open in front of me, pen poised in my hand. As much as I know I need to write and fill the lined pages so Mother will be happy, I can't seem to bring myself to. Nothing seems to make sense in my head, and everything seems to lead back to Edward. How he looks when he talks to me so passionately, or how his brow wrinkles when he's worried about me. I keep remembering the warm comforting feeling of his arms around me and the deep, musky, manly smell of him when I buried my head in his shirt.

Most of all, I think about how lost and alone I feel without him. The solidarity I usually crave now seems cold and lonely without him here with me. Before, everything I experienced was like I was looking through a window, looking in but completely removed at the same time. It's like my emotions have awoken and I'm starting to figure out what they mean, how I'm feeling. So much has changed over the past few days, that I just want to crawl into a hole and think about everything for a solid week.

One of the main things I've been thinking about lately is Mother. How she treats me, and some of the things she does. My whole life she's been telling me that it's my fault I'm like this and that there's no one that will ever love me, because I'm not normal. She always complains about being stuck with me, because I could never survive on my own. I can't help but believe her on most points. I am different, but Edward has led me to believe that maybe that's not a bad thing, and that I'm normal in my own way.

However, Mother is right completely right about one thing. I couldn't survive without her. She gives me a place to live, buys food for me to cook, buys me clothes when I need them and notebooks when I need a new one. Even if she's never loved me, at least she's given me that.

There are so many other things about my life, and things Mother does, that confuse me. Like how insistent she is that I write, how she steals away with my notebooks. I can't for the life of me think of why, but she's been doing it for years now. I remember a time when she used to basically ignore me. I went to a regular elementary school, but dropped out of the zoo that is high school and studied online. After my first week in that hell hole I had experienced so many panic attacks that the school insisted I be catered for elsewhere. Mother gave me a computer, set me up and basically told me to go at it. I was fine with that, and I flew through easily. I am by no means an idiot. At fourteen I had a high school diploma and plenty of time on my hands.

So I read. Anything and everything.

I started at the local library, usually staying in the fiction section. Sometimes I branched out to the science books, medical texts or historical references. The librarian tried to steer me towards the childrens and young adults section at first, but that barely kept me busy for a couple of months. By my sixteenth birthday I had finished every fiction book worth reading in the library, so I went back to reading my favorites. I have a fondness of historical English romances, with my absolute favorite being Wuthering Heights. When I started to get bored again, it was then that I began to write. Eventually Mother caught on, and for some reason she insisted on watching over it. Soon after that she forbade me from reading. She always said that I needed to keep writing, and all the reading I did kept me from writing more. I miss reading a lot, but Mother has managed to manipulate my routines so that I can't get to the library. For a while I thought about disobeying her and walking to the library, like I used to do for so long before. However, could never bring myself to do it, to change my daily plan in such a drastic way. When we moved to this new modern monstrosity, I gave up on the idea entirely. It's too far away from the library for me to walk anyway, and the unpredictability of the public transport system is enough to persuade me from attempting to bus there.

All this thinking is getting to me again, and I have no desire to try and focus my racing thoughts enough to channel it into writing.

Giving up, I stand and wander around my room. It's weird for me to do something so aimlessly. It's even weirder to not be doing what I know I should be, but I can't bring myself to care. I gaze at my notebooks, all lined up on my bookshelf. Theres about 50 of them, standing next to each other in perfect order. This bookshelf once held my meager book collection, a mismatch group of novels rescued from library throw out bins and garage sales. Mother took them away to stop me reading them. I had to watch from my window as she walked down the stairs from our old, small, second story apartment and tipped my pile of treasures into the large garbage bin at the entrance to our apartment complex.

I remember it was one of the only times I ever cried when I was growing up.

I have one hidden treasure though. She didn't manage to get all of them.

Dropping to my knees I reach under my bed and pull out a shoebox, quickly dusting off the minute layer of dust on top. Lifting the lid I reach in to grab my one last treasure, the last book I own. My copy of Wuthering Heights is battered and tattered. It's cover is faded and creased and the edges of the pages have yellowed with age. But still, it's the most precious thing I own. I picked it up for a dollar at a book fair when I was sixteen. I had been reading it on the day that Mother had taken my other books. It had been resting on my bedside table, so she had missed it in her clear out. Before she could return from the bin that day, I quickly hid the lone book under my mattress.

I can't help but hold it with reverence, gently running my hand down the cover. I haven't read it in a while and I can't help the immense happiness I feel at the thought. I bound onto my bed, settling down to lean against my headboard. I tell myself I will only read for a short while, just to relax and try and focus before Mother gets home.

However, it doesn't take long for me to get swept up in the romantic, tragic story of Catherine and Heathcliff.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

The cold, hard steel of Mothers voice drags me from by pseudo-dream state. I feel dread fall over me as I freeze, refusing to lift my head. I can never look Mother in the eyes. Glancing over at my bedside table, my breathing quickens as I see the time on my alarm clock.

5:15 pm.

Oh god.

I've been reading for almost 5 hours. My plan to spend a short time reading was thrown out the window when I become ensconced in the rich, colorful, tragic storyline. I could kick myself for being so careless. I should have set an alarm to wake me from my daze, especially because I know how absorbed I can get. Instead here I am, in clear defiance of Mothers rules. I've never been caught going against her before.

"Well?" Her harsh question makes me jerk in fright. She wants an answer.

"I...I was...I was just..." My mouth remains open but no sound escapes. I don't know what to do. I know this is bad, but I can't see a way out of what comes next. I hear her heavy steps coming near, and the impending sound makes my mouth go dry and my palms begin to sweat.

"Didn't I tell you that you're not allowed to read?" She's standing over me now, and I shrink down to make myself smaller. Before I can move away, her hand shoots out and snatches the book from me.

"Who's is this?" Her voice is so calm and level, but with an underlying threat of anger and resentment. It's sends shivers down my spine.

"I...it's m...mine." She snorts at my attempt to speak.

"Where did you get it?" I find myself unable to answer again. The silence stretches and I lift my gaze, only managing to look as far as her mouth. I think she can tell I've given up on trying to talk to her.

Her mouth twists into a cruel, mocking smile.

"Well, we'll have to remedy this, won't we?" Her rhetorical question hangs in the air for a second before her perfectly manicured fingers grasp at the open page.

_Rip._

I sit in stunned silence as Mother tears each and every page from it's spine, releasing them to flutter to the floor around me. She keeps going and going, shredding my one precious belonging in her hands. And all I can do is sit there and watch.

By the time she's done I'm sobbing, tears streaming down my cheeks and my breathing harsh and shallow. My chest aches, and all I can do shake and stare at the same spot on the floor.

"Where's your notebook. I want to see it." My head snaps up to my desk, then darts over to her. She sees where my gaze is directed and starts to move across the room. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realise I don't want her to have my notebook. It' mine, and mine only. I don't understand why she wants to see it, and I don't care. She can't have it this time.

I launch myself off my bed and manage to reach the desk before her, snatching the notebook and holding it to my chest. Standing my ground, I finally work up the courage to meet her gaze for the first time ever. I can tell this startles her, and her surprise gives me the strength to stand up to her for the first time in my life.

"No."

The word hangs in the space between us, heavy and thick with tension. I feel good, proud of myself. I think of all the things Edward has been saying to me for the past few days, and I use his words as a strength to stand up against her, against my own Mother.

Then, in front of my eyes, she shakes off her surprise and her pretty features melt into an ugly, cruel smirk. I can feel the blood drain from my face. I thought I had done it, I thought I had stood up for myself. But as I look into her eyes, I know she won't ever let me get away with it. Her pale blue, almost grey eyes are hard as stone, lifeless and shallow. I can see in her eyes what I've guessed at my whole life, but now know for certain.

She doesn't love me. She never has and she never will.

She advances towards me slowly and I try to back away, but the desk behind me hinders my progress.

"That was a big mistake Isabella. Now give me the notebook."

I'm so scared, but still I shake my head.

"No."

Mother snarls, her lips curling in a cruel growl.

"Give it to me!"

She lunges at me, and I twist to the side to try and avoid her, my notebook clutched tightly to my chest. Her long, artificial nails scrape deeply down my forearm, leaving behind long trenches in my skin that immediately pool with blood. I cry out as the harsh, sharp pain rushes through me. and as she continues to try and pry the book from my arms. I manage to move to the side, away from my desk, but she still has a hold of me and I end up backed against my wardrobe. I continue to struggle until she pauses for a minute.

What happens next appears to happen in slow motion, yet I can do nothing to stop it. She raises her right arm across her body, her fingers held out but together tightly. I can see the twinkling diamond in one of her many different rings, sitting proudly on her perfectly manicured hand. I see it coming down towards me, but I can do nothing to stop it.

_Whack!_

My head whips to the side as the back of her hand lands in a solid blow across my cheek. I'm seeing stars, and stumble into the door of my wardrobe, throwing my hands out to catch myself as I tumble to the floor. I lie still for a moment, unable to function. My right cheek is stinging and burning, and my head is pounding. I somehow manage to lift my head and I bring my hand up to my cheek. Wiping it slightly, I come away with a mixture of tears and blood.

Mothers shoes appear in the side of my vision, and she crouches down next to me. I look up at her, wincing in pain, to see her pulling out a tissue from her pocket and wiping bright red smears of blood off her pristine diamond. Once she's satisfied, she tosses her tissue to the side and looks down at me, a smile on her face and her head cocked to the side.

"Now Isabella. Isn't it just easier to do what I say?"

I give up. I can't do it. Tearing my gaze from her's, I rest my head on the carpeted floor, my gaze settling on the bright red polish of her toes. The color matches the lines of blood on my hand, and running down my arm. From the corner of my eye I see her reach over and pick up my notebook. I don't have the energy to stop her anymore. I hear her flicking through the pages carelessly.

"Well someone hasn't been very busy, have they?" she taunts. "But I guess this will just have to do. You can start on a new notebook."

I make a faint strangled sound in my throat. The thought of starting a new notebook before I've finished that one is almost unbearable.

"What was that dear?" Her violent, yet sickly sweet question throws me into silence. "That's right, nothing. You will do as I say Isabella. Don't forget who looks after you, who puts up with your sorry excuse for a life. You're too damaged to survive on your own. You're worthless."

With that, she stands and storms out, taking my notebook and leaving me in tears and blood, surrounded by the remains of my favorite, treasured possession.

* * *

At some point, as the sun sets out the window and after I hear the front door slam as Mother leaves for one of her engagements, I manage to drag myself onto all fours, and I pry open my wardrobe door. I crawl in, settling myself in the corner with my knees against my chest, and pull the door shut.

And I float. I let my thoughts go, to drift off into a safe, numb place. So much went wrong, that I can't seem to find a way to make it right with myself. So I lose myself in the only way I know how; within my own confused, confuddled mind.

Eventually, my mind breaks, and a torrent of harsh, raw agony sweeps through me. I bury my head in my knees and rock, not bothering to stifle my heaving sobs as the night wears on around me.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. I promise things will get better soon!**

**Secret :)**


	7. Saturday

**Hello! **

**I hope everyone's having a good day so far. Here lies the next chapter of Normality. A lot happens here, as you probably imagine based on the last chapter. It was a bit difficult to write but hopefully it gets across what it should. **

**I apologize for not updating sooner. I had a test that kicked my arse and I've been having a few issues with various people in my life (way to be vague eh?) Please enjoy. Leave me a review to let me know what you think. Friend me on facebook if you want to chat :)**

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Chapter 7- Saturday

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My sobs ceased some time ago, but I'm frozen in place. The cool darkness of the wardrobe is soothing, and I can't find myself able to get up. My butt has long since gone to sleep, and still I hold my legs to my chest tightly. I think I doze throughout the night, I'm not sure. The morning sunlight eventually starts to thread through the cracks in the door, creeping towards me, bathing me in it's minute warmth. I can feel that the heat of the blazing sun is raising the temperature outside, but I still shiver with cold in my small oasis of darkness.

Everything is different, but the same. Hot and cold, fast and slow, busy and calm. I ride it out till I'm exhausted. At some point in the night I've brought out the small slip of paper from my pocket, the one with three phone numbers on it. I keep thinking that, maybe if I call him, everything will be alright, he'll make everything right again. But I can't seem to face leaving my safe haven. So I clutch it in my fist and lose myself again.

Mother never came home from the night before. I'm not surprised. She does this every so often. She'll return at some point around lunchtime, still in the clothes from the night before but with mussed hair and smeared makeup. Her casual views of sex always unsettle me. The thought of the amounts of random sex she's getting seems so dirty and cheap to me, like it's something to throw around and give away to anyone who asks.

The first thing to break me out and pull me into the present is the sound of knocking on the front door. Three quick knocks echo through the hollow emptiness of the house. I can't help but slowly, shakily unfurl my arm from my legs and reply to the knocks with my own on the door of my wardrobe.

_Knock knock knock._

I leave my fist resting on the wood and listen. The knocks come again, this time louder. Again I reply to them. Soon they continue non-stop and I keep up with them, small little raps with my knuckles against the door right next to me.

When they stop, so do I and I go back to staring into the darkness. Until I hear the door open, and the sound of footsteps reach my ears.

Usually I would say it was Mother, but instead of the usual clack of her heels in the foyer, I hear heavy footsteps. Also I realise that Mother wouldn't need to knock. I can hear the person moving around downstairs and I'm frozen in panic.

There's someone in my house.

I'm completely still and silent as I listen to the footsteps. They seem to be in a rush, going in a out of rooms, searching for something. So many different scenarios play out in my head. A burglar, a murderer, someone looking for Mother. Before I have time to do anything, the footsteps reach the staircase, and start to climb.

My hands are clammy and my throat dry as I listen to the person climb the steps one at a time, until they pause at the second to top step. Everything is silent for a second and my heart beats loudly in my ears.

Then, I hear a tentative voice call out down the hallway.

"Bella?"

All at once my breath leaves me in a whoosh, my body relaxing and the pounding in my heart slows, giving me some respite. I would recognise that voice anywhere. It's the same voice that whispered against my hair as he held me the day before, that chatted excitedly to me about anything and everything that came to mind.

Edward's here.

I want to go to him, to crawl out of this tiny wardrobe and fall into him arms. But I'm frozen. I don't know if I can let him see me like this. I know I must look terrible, and if he sees me I know he's going to run for the hills. My indecision leaves me in a state of flux. I can't pull myself out of my head to try and call out to him. Instead I'm stuck and drowning.

Then I hear him stop just outside the open door to my bedroom, his pause leading to another bout of silence. He shuffles further in, most likely taking in the state of the room. My beloved book is still in tatters on the floor. Mother would in no way even contemplate cleaning it up herself.

Suddenly, Edward calls out again, and knocks twice on the bedroom door just after.

"Bella?" _Knock knock._

I still can't answer him but I find my hand raising once again towards the wardrobe door.

_Knock knock._

Everything goes still again and I hold my breath in anticipation. Please let him hear me. Please let him find me. If he doesn't I don't know if I'll have the courage to get out of this wardrobe on my own.

The next minute I hear his footsteps hurry across the room towards me. I hear him shuffling around on the other side of the door, so close but still separated. Then I hear his voice down at my level, as though he's kneeling. He speaks quieter this time.

"Bella? Are you in there sweetheart?"

When I don't answer I hear two cautious knocks sound on the door. When I tentatively answer them I hear him let out a sigh.

"I'm going to open the door. Ok? Knock twice if you want to to open the door Bella."

Without hesitating I knock twice. Almost immediately the door begins to swing open, slowly but surely. The brightness blinds me, and I firmly bury my head in my knees. Almost immediately I feel his hands on me, one reaching up to stroke my hair and one resting lightly on the arm. Then he starts to panic.

"Bella. What's wrong?! Why do I see blood? Are you hurt? Bella, look at me! please!"

I slowly lift my head to meet his gaze. He lets out a harsh breath as he gets a look at my aching, bruised face. I see tears swim in his eyes.

Finally I break.

I launch myself at him, flinging my arms around his neck and draping myself across his lap. I want to be as close to him as possible. I want him to hold me, to protect me. As I feel his strong arms wrap around me I break down even more and sob into his chest.

"It's ok, my Beautiful Bella. You're safe. I've got you."

He whispers sweet words in my ear and I can't help but feel like this is where I belong. I don't ever want to leave here, leave his embrace.

"Edward." My voice comes out harsh and crackled, having been punished from my night of crying and sobbing. I'm soaking his shirt with snot and tears, but Edward just hold me tighter.

"I'm here Bella, and I'm never going to let you go." I let go of my blocks, let out my emotions, and Edward holds me as I lose it.

Edward does as he promised, and holds onto me tightly, rocking me gently back and forth. He knows exactly what to do to calm me down.

When I've recovered enough, I can't help but ask. "How did you find me?" He answers me immediately.

"529 steps."

I'm confused. I lean back a bit to see his face. "Huh?"

"It was 10:52, and you hadn't shown up yet. I knew right away something was wrong so..."

His cheeks pinken with embarrassment. "I knew what direction you usually went in, so I started walking and counting. When I got here I just had to hope this was your house, and that it wasn't someone elses. I'm sorry, I shouldn't of been so forward as to practically break in to your house."

"No!" I exclaim quickly. "I'm glad you did. I was so stuck and I don't know how much longer I would have been in there..." I trail off and blush. I just basically admitted to being too screwed up to find my way out of a cupboard. Edward's expression turns stony. I think he's..upset?

"What happened Bella? Who did this to you. Was it your Mother?" His voice is so serious and I realise he's concerned about me. I feel a weight lift from my chest. I have someone who cares about me, who will look after me as much as he can. It feels so surreal, yet so good. And I now that I would do everything in my power to look after him too, to make him happy.

I know I have to tell him the truth, but I'm so ashamed of the hold that Mother has over me. I lean my forehead gently against his chest and breath deeply, before nodding once.

"Tell me what happened Bella." His voice is gentle and coaxing, but I know he won't take no for an answer. I try to get it out in a why he will understand.

"I...I was reading...she doesn't like me to read, and she caught me, when she came home yesterday. She...my book, she..." I can't help it. The tears return as I look around at the confetti lying around us. My voice comes out as a harsh whisper. "...she destroyed it."

"Oh sweetheart."

I'm on a roll. I can't stop. I have to get it out.

"And then...I...she said I haven't written enough. She took it, and I didn't want her to take it. I tried to keep it from her. But she..." my hand comes up to cup my cheek as I remember the feel of her palm on me, of the burn of her ring as it gouged into my flesh. Edwards hand joins mine and I look up at him. He looks determined.

"Sweetheart, tell me. Were you in there all night?" When I look into his eyes, I know I have to tell the truth. There's no other way. At my hesitant nod, Edward's face crumples in agony.

"I can't let you stay here with her. You can come with me, to Seattle. I know it will be hard for you, but I want you to. You can live with me, we can live together. She will never be able to hurt you ever again."

Oh how I want to say yes. I want to let him swept me off, and I'd never be alone again. I want it to be true, but a small part of me knows that no one can ever love me. It would just be temporary. Sooner or later he would get sick of me, and I'd be even more alone than before. To be able to experience that feeling, the feeling of being loved and cherished, and then having it ripped away would be more than I could bare.

It's like he knows what I'm thinking, like he can read it in my eyes. Because what he says next blows me off my feet.

"I'm falling in love with you Bella." My breathing hitches, my vision blurs, my hands clench in the fabric of his shirt, my chest heaves. This can't be true. It's all I ever wanted and it's happening, right in front of me. "I knew the moment I met you that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Four days is all It took to fall in love with you. What will it take for you to believe me?"

Even though I don't understand my own feelings, I has some sort of implicit knowledge, and from that I know that he's telling the truth. The emotion in his face and in his words sink right into me.

"Tell me again. Tell me you love me." The words come out before I realise it. I want to hear him say it so much. He leans his forehead against mine, his sweet, warm breath ghosting gently across my face.

"I love you Bella."

And I believe him.

"I'll come with you."

Edwards eyes widen at my statement, but he recovers quickly, and a smile forms across his face.

"Ok, lets go. Lets do it. We can pack up some of your stuff and be gone as soon as possible."

"Just my notebooks."

He looks at me in surprise. "What about clothes? Trinkets?"

I shake my head. "Just the notebooks. That's all I need."

* * *

He gets straight to work. I mention the boxes in the attic, from when we moved in two years before. He leaves to get them and returns in a flash, quickly clearing my bookshelves and carefully storing the books in the boxes. I watch and try to wrap my head around what's happening. I'm leaving. I know it's going to be hard. I anticipate many panic attacks and blackouts. But I also know that this is the best thing. I need to get away from her. From her controlling, her abuse. And I know that Edward will look after me. I know that with everything I am. All the emotions that have been swirling around inside me for the past week are making another appearance. For once I take the time to stop and study them. There's so many different feelings that I've never encountered before, that I'm trying to figure out.

"Edward?"

He looks up from where he is across the room, busy closing up the last box with some tape he found in the attic. "Yeah?"

"I think I love you." I know I sound uncertain. I definitely feel uncertain. But I'm getting there, and I know that the base of my feelings are love. It's what I've always craved, what Mother could never give me. And now that I can feel it within me, I know that love is definitely what it is.

I feel nervous, uncertain as I keep my gaze focussed on Edward. In an instant, his intense, concerned expression melts into a breathtaking smile. He jumps to his feet, propels towards me and gathers me into his arms.

"I'm know your really confused and scared right now, but you have no idea how happy I am that you said that. I love you so much. I'm looking forward to the day you know for sure that you love me, but this is more than enough for now."

We both gaze at each other, silly grins plastered on our faces.

Everything is going to be ok.

* * *

Ten minutes later I'm feeling anything but ok. Edward ran back to the coffee shop to get his car and all my notebooks are now stashed neatly in his trunk. We're all set to head off, but I'm struggling with what he's asking of me.

"Please Bella. We'll go to the police station on our way, we can't let her get away with this." I don't want to.

"But...if she knew I went to the police..." I can feel myself panicking already.

"She won't be able to do anything. Look at me Bella." He lifts my face so i can meet his gaze. All I can see is love and sincerity emanating from him. "I will look after you. We don't even have to file charges, we could just get a restraining order. Then she can't come after you. Ok?"

I know he's right, this is the only way I know that she won't get her mitts into me again. I know I can't ever go back to living with her, and I only hope that she'll let me go without a fight, that she won't come looking for me. She always said I was a burden. Hopefully she'll be happy to see the last of me.

My inner musings keep me occupied till we get to the police station, then I rely on Edward to get me through. He knows exactly how to keep me calm. He never leaves my side, and keeps my hands firmly grasped within his. Even so, it's the most stressful experience on my life. Not only is there a lot of people milling around, but a lot of them are focussed on me, especially with how my face looks. They take pictures of my face and arm, and write down a quick statement that Edwards helps me get through. Only then can I clean up, wiping away the dried blood and tears with tissue and water. Edward makes sure to carefully clean my wounds and wrap my arm in a bandage, just to be safe. Then, since I refuse to press charges, its pretty simple.

A restraining order, and we're free to go.

Edward makes sure to leave his number to make sure we get updates and we walk out hand in hand, into the intense afternoon heat. He gently pulls us to a stop and wraps his arms around me. I burrow into him and let out a few deep breaths.

"I'm so proud of you, my Beautiful Bella." I nod, and pull myself away. If I take too much time to stop and think, I know it's going to be bad.

"Let's go."

It isn't until we're pulling out of the parking lot that Edward starts explaining the plan. His explanation makes my heart stop.

"I missed my flight earlier, but we'll go straight there and I'll book us something else. We should be in Seattle by tonight."

"No!" My breathing accelerates, I can feel my chest seizing up. It seems so anticlimactic that out of all the major changes that have happened today, it's the final, tiny thing that sets me off. Everything that has built up all day crests in a tsunami of panic that washes over me I one foul swoop.

Edward pulls over. I think I'm scaring him. I know I'm freaking out. Unintelligible sounds are coming out of my mouth and I can't stop them. My scalp burns from where I'm tugging my hair. He's trying to stop me, trying to pull my hands towards him. I fight against him, but inwardly I want his help. He tries to sooth me by gently rubbing my hands, making concentric circles with his thumbs. It helps a little, but I'm still inconsolable. I don't know how long I lash out for, but eventually I've calmed down, only a little.

My senses return, like a layer of cotton wool being lifted. I can hear Edward as he whispers to me urgently.

"Tell me what's wrong Bella. Please Bella. Tell me what's wrong. Talk to me..."

Over and over he asks me, pleading me to tell him what he can do. I try, I work myself up to it, gathering my wits and pushing through my panic.

"No planes. Please."

Once it's out I can relax. All I can think about is the last time. The first time we moved away from Dad. My first time on a plane. The time Mother insisted that because of my illness I needed to be strapped to my seat. The feeling of being restrained, tied up, was so traumatizing that I haven't set foot on a plane since. It was the only thing that I could throw a tantrum about, and get away with.

But I told him. I got through my panic to tell him what's wrong. Even though I'm still feel like I'm in the middle of an unending battle with myself, I can't help but feel proud of myself. Edward nods in agreement.

"Ok, no planes. Thats fine. We can drive back. Anything you want Bella."

He gets back onto the road, pulling out his cellphone as he goes. He talks for a while, and vaguely I realise he's telling the rental company that he wants car for longer, that he'll return it to their office in Seattle. It's such a relief to know that we won't be flying, that I give up trying to stay in contact with reality anymore. I got through the day, but now there's so much uncertainty ahead, I don't even know how to start processing it.

We pass the Farewell from Phoenix sign, speeding toward LA along the I-10 with the late afternoon sun beating down on the never ending road ahead of us. I curl up in the fetal position and finally close my eyes. As we drive away from everything I know, everything I'm comfortable with, I fall back to my old failsafe to keep me sane.

_Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be..._

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	8. Saturday Night

**So... my life's shit. I'm trying to build a bridge and get over it. It's hard sometimes though.**

**On a different note I actually did build a bridge last year, as part of first year engineering. It was made out of popsicle sticks and supported 100Kg (about 220 Pounds) before it failed. Fun times!**

**I cranked out another chapter. Yay! Enjoy :)**

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Chapter 8 - Saturday night

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It's just starting to get dark as we pull off of the highway into a small, sleepy little town. It seems like one of those places that would've been bustling back in the day, when the main stream of traffic went right down the middle of town. Now that there's a highway that bypasses it, it's become a bit of a desolate shell. Surprisingly it has a Walmart, which we pull up to and park.

I've settled into a state of numbness. About an hour into our journey I realised I had been muttering my mantra out loud. When I was calm enough I stopped by crazy chanting, and since then I've been staring out the window, watching the dusty, sprawling desert rush past. Every now and then I would feel Edward glance across at me. I don't know that worries him more, my chanting or my silence. Regardless, he kept going, and I'm glad I have him to get me out of there.

I'm so tired. I can't sleep in cars though, so I've been awake the whole time. We've only been driving for a couple of hours. I have no idea where we are. I turn to look at Edward as he turns off the car, my movements slow and lethargic.

The emotion in his eyes is startling. He looks so torn, so anguished. His green eyes are light and watery, and he looks so tired.

"I'm sorry, Edward." I can't help but apologise. He's done so much for me, gone so far out of his way. And now, I can't help but hate that I'm the reason he looks like that, I'm the reason he's so upset. However, I think I just made it worse.

"Bella," His voice it so deep, so expressive. "There is nothing for you to be sorry for. I would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant keep you safe." I shoot him a watery smile before forcing out a deep breath. I'm tired of crying, of becoming a victim of too many emotions. I want to do something productive.

"Where are we?"

"In a small town called Blythe. I figure we may as well stop for the night. Get a good nights sleep. Recharge. Is that ok?" I nod and look out at the seemingly empty store in front of us. "I'm going to run in and grab some necessities for you. Some clothes and stuff. Do you...do you want to come in? Or do you want to wait here?"

My instincts tell me to stay put. The car is safe. The plush, leather interior is comfy and smells like a combination of air freshener and Edward. But another side of me is tired of always sitting on the sidelines. I want to do something new, something that I wouldn't usually do. Something...normal.

And I don't want to be away from Edward for any longer than I have to.

"I'll come in with you." Edward looks a little surprised, but his smile is so big I know it's a good surprised. He scrambles to open his door and, as I reach for mine, he stops me.

"Wait there, I'll open your door for you." Before I have time to object his door shuts and he's jogging around the front of the car. My door opens and there he stands, his hand outstretched towards me, and small quirky smile on his face. I don't hesitate. I grab his hand and climb out of my sanctuary, into the arms of my oasis.

I can feel myself tensing up as we approach the door. Everything seems so harsh and foreign. The sharp, blueish-white tinge of the florescent lights, the stark whiteness of the linoleum floor. I almost jump when the automatic doors slide open as we reach them. The store seems to go on for miles, stretching out in a sea of racks and shelves. I feel that as soon as I step foot inside, I'll be lost forever.

Trying to dispel the panic I tug Edward to a stop. He turns to me quizzingly, and I take a deep breath.

"Just...don't let me go." I whisper, unable to look away from his captivating eyes. Silently he raises our hands between us, before carefully threading our fingers together, tight and secure. When he lowers them he move right up next to me, almost curling round my shoulder. Our forearms are touching from elbow to wrist and my arm sits between his arm and his body, his arm coming from behind to nestle against me in the same way.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Beautiful." I let out one last, cleansing breath before charging forward, ready to meet the challenge of Walmart head on.

* * *

We hit the clothes first, me picking out four identical scoop necked t-shirts in different colors, one of them blue at Edwards insistence (to which I am utterly confused by). He insists on buying me a warm jersey, which he says I'll need as we go further north. I grab two pairs of identical jeans, a set of pajamas and a 10 pack of simple, cotton underwear, to which Edward simple remains silent next to me, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. His behaviour, again, confuses me. Doesn't everyone wear underwear?

I skip shoes, under the pretense that I'll be fine with one pair for now. Edward leads me to the toiletries section, to grab shampoo, body wash and a toothbrush. Luckily they have the same brands as Mother normally buys me, so I'll have something familiar.

By the time we're ready to hit the checkout I've moved past nervous and hit tired. My feet are dragging, my eyes are drooping, and I'm leaning on Edward like he's a crutch. Even so, I practically spring awake again as we walk down an aisle towards the front of the store. I can't help but freeze in place, mouth dropping open in amazement.

On either side of me are shelves and shelves of notebooks. I've only ever had the ones Mother buys me, regular and cheap with thin pages. Looking around me I can see so many different types. There are big, thick, rectangular ones with hard covers and thick, fancy pages, or cute small ones that could fit in your pocket. They come in different colors and shapes, different thicknesses and types of paper. I feel like I've died and gone to heaven.

I hear Edward chuckle. He's smiling at me.

"Take a look around, pick out whatever you like." My eyes practically bug out of my head.

"Any of them?" I say in astonishment. He's got to be joking, but he nods in approval.

"Any of them."

With that I spin around. I can't help but gently run my hands over the covers. For about 10 minutes I diligently inspect each one that catches my eye, check for anything from weight to page thickness to cover strength. Edward trails along with me the whole time, leaving me to my investigation.

However, as I go along nothing seems to fit. There's always something slightly wrong. I know I'll find the right one, the one I'm comfortable with soon. I can feel it. I also think back to my last notebook, which at this moment is probably sitting in one of Mothers draws, locked up tight. I didn't bother to tell Edward there was one more when we were leaving. I knew it would be unreachable.

Just when I think I'm never going to find it, my fingertips brush against a soft but firm cover, perched on a shelf just out of my vision. I know this is the one as soon as my fingers touch it. It sends tingles up my arm and I shiver in anticipation as I quickly pull it down.

It's perfect.

The cover is a deep, bright shade of green that I know, without checking, is almost the exact same shade as Edwards eyes. The cover is hard, but the notebook is still light enough for me to carry comfortably. It's about the same size as my old one, but more importantly it has beautiful, thick, elegantly ruler pages.

"This is the one." I whisper to myself. Edward hums in agreement, his arms encircling me to hold me from behind, looking over my shoulder. He leans down to whisper in my ear.

"It's perfect, Beautiful."

* * *

It's only just hitting 8 o'clock at night, but both of us are exhausted. Edward gets drive through McDonalds (a burger for him, a salad for me) and we head to the only motel in town. My mind is so foggy that I barely notice anything, I just drift. Edward darts out to get us a room, and then ushers me into a small, slightly shabby, but still clean unit. First off we perch at the dinner table and scarf our food, both ravenous from the long day. As I take in the much needed nutrients, I look around. There's a small kitchenette, a two seater table, and an old television set. There's three doors. I presume one is the bathroom and the others are bedrooms. When we're finished Edward gets too his feet.

"You can have this bedroom" he says, opening the door a bit so I can see into the sparse room, holding a double bed and a nightstand. I have my own room. That's good, I think. "I'll take the other. You can have first shower as well." I nod, too tired to object, and stumble into bathroom, squinting at the bright light. I rush through my shower, yearning to be able to fall into bed and go to sleep. I studiously avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to deal with too many emotions right now. When I emerge I pull nervously at the bottom of my pale blue, short pajama shorts. They only had summer pajamas, seeing as we're practically in the middle of the desert, so the shorts only come to mid thigh and the sleeves only just over my shoulder.

I look up when I hear Edward make a weird noise. He's standing by the bedroom doors, frozen in place, his mouth falling open a bit. Surprisingly, he isn't looking at my face. Instead his eyes are firmly settled on my legs.

I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, a bubbling, churning mass that burns and tingles. I can feel it everywhere, spreading throughout my body. It's weird, I've never felt it before. My cheeks blush, but it doesn't stop there. The redness spreads down my neck and seems to settle on my chest. Edward's still staring at me, and I shuffle from foot to foot, starting to feel nervous at his intense scrutiny. His eyes snap up to my face, and for the first time he can't meet my gaze. Instead he looks around the room and I see his cheeks begin to pool with blush, matching mine.

"Oh...umm...the, ah, the pajamas fit nicely then." Edward clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. "Umm, I'll just...go have a shower." I nod and make my way towards the bedroom he pointed out previously as Edward grabs his duffle bag. As I hear the bathroom door close behind me, I breath and let out a giggle. I don't know what these new feelings are that Edward inflicts on me, but I like them. I don't want them to stop.

While Edward's in the shower I carefully fold my clothes into two perfect piles, one for clean, one for dirty, then go around to the right side of the double bed. As I peel back the covers, I can't help but smile. The sight of the fresh, clean sheets makes me happy. I climb in carefully and lean against the headboard, smoothing out the covers with the palms of my hands. Now that I'm here, that I've taken a moment it sit and think, everything seems so much bigger, so scary and unknown. I'm sitting in an unknown room, in an unknown bed, and at this point in time everything seems impossible. The idea of moving across the country, with a person I've known for less than a week, sounds insane.

I can't help but stare at my hands and fidget. Although I've been awake for close to 36 hours now, my mind is suddenly active and going into hyperdrive. I lose focus and suddenly all I can see it the ugly, green checkered pattern of the bedspread.

"Bella?"

Edward is standing in the doorway. I had been in such a daze that I hadn't registered when the shower turned off. His hair is wet, looking darker and more ordered than it usually is. He's dressed in a fitting grey t-shirt, and for the first time I can see that he has muscles. Not overly large ones, but well defined and present all the same. He's wearing a pair of dark blue doctors scrubs that look loose and comfortable. He shifts from leg to leg, a little awkwardly.

"Are you ok?"

I shallow. How do I answer that? On one level I'm fine. I'm away from Mother, I'm with Edward. There's nothing else I could ask for. But on another level there so much confusion, so much uncertainty in my future that it's almost suffocating. My usually straight path has suddenly gone wonky, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to follow it, or if I'm going to fall off the side.

But for now, I can't seem to convince myself to admit any of this. So I nod. And stay silent. Edward reaches for my door knob and starts to pull my door closed.

"I'll be right next door if you need anything. Ok?" Again all I can do is nod. "Goodnight Bella. Sweet dreams." This I can reply to.

"Sweet dreams, Edward."

* * *

I can't sleep.

I'm lying on my back, staring at the ugly mottled ceiling and I can't sleep. There's a leaky faucet somewhere. I can faintly hear it dripping. Every now and then a car drives past outside and the room is washed in the ugly yellow glare from the headlights. I never thought something so small as the dimensions of a room could get to me. In my bedroom, now my old bedroom, the bed is in the exact center of the room. Here it's closer to the window, it's off center. Everything looks different. The shadow are different, the general feel of the air, the smell is different.

I don't like it.

I try thinking of Edward. That's been working well for the past week or so. I take a deep breath and try to visualise his face, his green eyes sparking to match his crooked smile, his Crazy-Hair falling into his eyes. I try to remember the sound of his laugh, the deep rumbling that starts in his chest and erupts outwards. I try to remember the feeling of his arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest, which I now know looks as solid as it feels.

It's not enough.

The urge to go to him is so strong. I want to curl up in his warm embrace, the embrace that makes me feel like no one can hurt me, that everything is ok. I fight it, locking my limbs in place and refusing to move. I will myself to relax, to try and rest, but as soon as my mind begins to wander, my limbs unlock and I automatically starting climbing out of bed. I can't explain it, I just go with it.

I hesitate outside his door. Do I knock? Is he already asleep? Will he be mad at me for waking him? He said he was next door if I needed him, which seems to indicate he would be ok with me waking him, but still I'm unsure. I think I'll just go in. I hesitantly turn the doorknob and push the door open. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, and when they do I can see that this room is small, much smaller than my own. It gives me a funny feeling to know he gave me the biggest room. Over on the far wall, by the window, is a narrow single bed which Edward is sleeping soundly in.

I'm across the room before I realise, and I can't help but smile as I look down at him. His face is so peaceful in sleep, none of the strain or worry that was present today. He's on his back, his face turned towards me and his arm laying across his stomach.

His bare stomach.

He's shirtless, his grey shirt balled up on the chair next to his bed with his duffle bag. There's a big difference between knowing the muscles are there, and actually seeing them. His pectorals are very defined, with groves around the highly formed muscles highlighting the strength and power of them. His arm and the top of the bedsheet hide most of him stomach, but I can see the edge of a six pack peeking out.

That feeling is back. The bubbling, churning warmth and spreads from the pit of my stomach to my limbs. I'm blushing and I don't know why. It's a strange sensation, but not entirely unpleasant.

My hand seems to move automatically as it reaches out to run through his hair, still slightly damp from the shower. It's so soft and thick. Edward shifts and groans, causing me to jerk my hand back. I leave it hanging in the space between us, unsure but wanting.

Edward's eyes open.

"Bella?" His voice is groggy with sleep and he rubs his hand across his eyes. "What are you doing? Are you ok?" As he comes to his senses more, he looks up at me in question. My mouth drops open but I don't know what to say. I go for the easiest.

"I...I couldn't sleep."

"Why?" I blush, but I answer as truthfully as I can.

"I missed you."

That crooked smile, it's so much better in person, so much better than my imagination. I smile back, already feeling relaxed and sleepy. Without hesitation, Edward pulls back the cover and bed sheet, and grabs my hand that is still hovering in the space between us.

"Come here" Edward whispers. It's so easy to climb into bed with him. He draws the covers up over us. We lay side to side, facing each other, pressed up against each other in this small bed. We're looking each other directly in the eyes. It's like he's searching for a sign, making sure that this is ok. It is. It's perfect. So I show him, I wrap one arm around his waist and tuck the other under me, burrowing my head into his chest. This is where I'm most comfortable, where I feel safe and secure. Edwards arm wraps around me and he nuzzles into my hair. I sigh happily. I can feel Edward's hand gently stroking my hair down my back. It's the best feeling in the world. He starts to hum quietly in the ear, a sweet, light tune.

I'm asleep in seconds

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	9. Sunday Morning

**Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the long wait. And I'm afraid the next chapter may take awhile as well. Classes are kicking my ass, so I can't guarantee anything.**

**Enjoy :)**

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Chapter 9 – Sunday Morning

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It's weird how everything in your life can change in a few short days. Previously I'd been so obsessed with my schedules, so focused on cutting up my life into small, manageable bits, that even my sleep patterns had fallen into line. However, apparently it only takes a day for me to completely obliterate these sleep patterns. Maybe it's because I'm so incredibly comfortable. Or maybe because so many things have changed in my life as of late that one more won't kill me. Or rather, drive me over the deep end.

As I drift into consciousness I can feel a warm breath tickle across my hair. I feel so safe, a cage of firm, muscled arms encasing me. I take a deep breath, relishing in the strong, musky scent of my savior my Edward. Our legs are entwined, keeping me from tumbling off the small bed. I'm tucked against his chest, and I feel so small and safe in his arms. I gently nuzzle my nose into his bare chest before opening my tired eyes and blinking at the bright morning light. It's lighter than it usually is when I wake, and when I glance at the bedside alarm clock I see that it's almost 8:30. I usually wake at exactly 7:00. Any other day something so deviant from my schedule would send me into a tailspin, drive me completely out of control. But it appears that when Edward's driving he keeps me on a straight course, and I don't mind handing over the steering to him.

I tilt my head back to peer up at his face. He's still asleep, eyes closed but fluttering slightly. His lashes are so long, casting minute shadow across his lids. His hair is as Crazy as always, with the added bonus of bed head. He looks so peaceful and happy, and I can't help but be drawn to his lips. They're parted slightly, small gusts of air slipping out of them. The soft, pink flesh is slightly moist, and I'm hypnotized. I think about kissing him, the idea stampedes through my mind with so much force. I've thought about it before, actually quite a lot over the past few days, but I never thought I'd be able to actually do it. Now that he's right here in front of me, so gentle looking and peaceful, I feel like there's a magnet drawing my lips towards him. I take a deep breath, glancing up to make sure he's still asleep. He is.

I'm going to do it.

This way I can control it. I won't stress out and wonder what he's going to do, I can just focus on keeping myself calm and not freaking out. It's not exactly how I imagined my first kiss, but I think it will be better this way. He's so handsome, and I try to focus on that fact, along with the warm fuzzy feeling in my chest.

I slowly lean up, hesitant but determined. I stop an inch from his lips and soak in the feelings, before gently shifting forward, pressing my lips lightly against his.

Edwards lips are even more soft and wonderful than I imagined. Their warmth transfers to my own lips and spreads to my cheeks and throughout my body. My head goes fuzzy, and all confusion and nervousness that is usually at home in my mind just melts away. It's so peaceful, so incredibly peaceful. If being in Edward's arms is my oasis, then kissing him is like taking the first drink of water after wandering aimlessly in the desert. It immediately soothes me, but I want a truckload more at the same time.

I ease back after a few seconds, my mind reeling, but I can't help but press my lips to his a second time. Now I feel his lips move to meet mine. I freeze for a second, but he coaxes me to move my lips with his in small, hypnotizing movements. I pull away as I begin to feel lightheaded, shakily exhaling. He's awake. I can't help but feel self conscious. Was it OK Is he angry that I kissed him in his sleep? And above all...will I get to do it again? Looking up at him I see he's smiling, his eyes twinkling in the morning light.

"Morning Bella." Edwards rough, scratchy, sleepy voices murmurs quietly as he shifts slightly. I keep waiting for him to mention the kiss, to ask what I was doing. I try to get my thoughts straight, but they're still frazzled from his lips. I settling with my cheek and palm resting on his warm chest. A light dusting of reddish brown chest hair tickles my nose. I don't want to move, but I wait for him to say something. He doesn't. Edward settles again, and gently strokes my hair. We lie like this for some time, enjoying each other's company and the quiet of the morning, his rhythmic caress lulling me into a tranquil state, despite our unusual predicament. Finally I let out a breath and break the silence.

"I can't remember the last time I slept past 7."

Edward remains silent for a moment, his ministrations now switching between stroking and gently massaging my scalp. I wince a bit has he hit a tender spot. He immediately goes lighter. I guess I've been pulling harder that I thought.

"Everyone needs a break every once and awhile. A lazy day or a little vacation." I think over his words. Logically I know them to be true, but I've never in the past felt the need to take a break, to relax. Probably because Mother has never allowed it, or because I never noticed how exhausting my life is until I'm away from her. Edward continues on with his thought. "It's one of the reasons why Dad gave me time off when I asked him."

This makes me pause. I untangle myself from him and sit up. My tangled hair falls across my face and I push it back quickly. I can feel myself panicking, I can't help it.

"You...you talked to your dad?" He seems confused. I supposed I would be to if he suddenly freaked out for no reason.

"Yes, I called him yesterday while I was driving. You were a bit...occupied at the time." My brow furrows in confusion.

"I don't remember that."

Edward smiles sadly.

"You were a bit zoned out, and you were muttering a lot under your breath."

Ah. So I had been saying my mantra aloud. That's a bit embarrassing. My cheeks flame and I bury my face in my hands. Edward tugs at my wrist to get me to look at him. He isn't laughing at me, nor is he angry with me. He's just a bit sad I think, but he still tries to smile.

"Come back here Beautiful."

I can't help but giggle as he pulls me back down to rest on his chest and he resumes stroking my hair.

"Can you tell me why you had that little freak out?" He's not angry I don't think, just concerned. I'm hesitant to answer.

"Did...did you tell him...about me?" I bite my lip as I wait for his answer.

"Yes I did. I told my parents earlier in the week that I'd met someone, and I had to fill him in a bit when I called to tell him not to come to the airport to pick me up. Are you ok with that?" I hate that I made him feel like he's done something wrong. I feel stupid for freaking out now.

"That's fine. It's just..." I don't know how to voice it. It's so hard to tell him how I feel sometimes, after keeping it all in for so long. But he knows when to nudge me, like now.

"Keep going." he whispers in my ear, still sweeping his hands down the strands of my hair. I focus on his repetitive movements as I try to get the words out.

"D...do you think your parents will like me." It kind of tumbles out in the end, and when it's in the open I bury my head into his chest, feeling tears leak from the corner of my eyes. I hate feeling so insecure and weak. I hate second guessing myself at every turn. But I can't help it. I trust Edward, I really do, but after a lifetime of not being good enough, the change of pace is a bit hard to get used to.

Edward kisses my forehead and tightens his arms around me slightly.

"They are going to love you Beautiful. They're so excited to meet you."

I don't know how to reply to that. It seems so weird that someone would want to meet me. I try to push it out of my head but as we lie in silence, I can't help but let the thoughts run amok in my head.

He's going to leave me eventually.

My heart clenches at the thought. I don't want to lose him, but in my experience, or at least from what I've seen of Mothers relationships, they always leave in the end. Once again it dawns on me just how potentially stupid it was of me to go running off with him. If he leaves me, I have nowhere to go, and that is probably the scariest thought of all. The unknown is what terrifies me the most.

So I pull away. I can't figure out what to do. Edward already as such an effect on me, holds so much power, that in this moment I feel so vulnerable. I struggle out his tight hold, which he releases immediately, and quickly get out of bed. I have to get away from his addictive touch for a bit, to try and get my thoughts straight. Now that I'm standing looking back at Edward in bed, with him looking so confused and dishevelled from sleep, and the empty ruffled space next to him I feel embarrassed and ashamed of hijacking his bed.

I turn to leave the room, my heart pounding and my eyes tearing up, but as I turn my foot gets tangled in the sheet that has fallen to the ground. As I feel myself begin to fall I brace myself for impact, but I feel Edwards strong grip on my arm keeping me steady. I let out a shaky breath and nod to him in thanks before gently pulling my arm from his grasp and making my way across the room.

"What did I do?"

The anguish is his voice makes me freeze. I don't want to hurt Edward but I can feel myself being dragged in so many different directions that I can't set things straight in my mind.

"Nothing. You did nothing." I can't seem to move. All I can hear is our breathing, harsh and loud in the silent room.

"Then what's wrong. Please talk to me." His voice implores to me, and the tears begin to flow down my cheeks, a sob bursting from my chest. I head his fast footsteps, and the next minute I'm wrapped in his arms. My sobs grow until my chest is heaving and I'm struggling to breathe.

'You're...going...to...leave...me."

"No! Bella, I told you. I love you. I'll never leave you."

I tear myself away from him, out of his arms.

"Don't say that! You don't know that! You could change your mind! You're going to change your mind! I know it!"

I'm shaking and I can't stop. Edward is so upset, but I can't help but spew it out, what I know to be the truth.

"You're going to find someone else. You're going to get bored of me, get sick of me, because I'm not normal." His expression turns angry in a moment and he opens his mouth to object. I beat him to it. "I know, I know. You hate that word. No one can tell me what's normal for me. Blah blah blah. It's all lies! I not right, nothing works for me and you're going to leave me and I'm going to have no one! I'm going to be alone! They always leave…" I sniff and rub the palms of my hands across my eyes, pressing down in exasperation. Edward stays silent and I look up to see him staring at me, unflinching, eyes watery.

"Who always leaves Bella?"

I'm angry now. Angry at myself for thinking this would work, angry at Edward for making me believe it would work, angry at everything.

"THE MEN! The ones that Mother throws herself at. They say that they love her, and that they will always be there for her, and they'll live happily ever after with a big shiny house with her screwed up, autistic waste of space daughter tagging along for the ride! But a few weeks later Mothers crying in bed, refusing to come out and the man disappears forever, along with the supposed love that he promised."

"It's not always like that!" Edward tries to come to me but I back up, trying to stay away from his addictive touch once more. He stops at my movement. "I was telling the truth the whole time Bella. I will always be there for you, for as long as you want me to be. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"It won't work."

"YES IT WILL!"

His yelling startles me, but he stops immediately, trying to get control. I know he won't hurt me, but the sudden change in volume is a bit scary. His voice drops to barely more than a whisper.

"I know you've probably only seem that side of it, but there is so much more to it Bella. Look at my parents. They've been together for 35 years. Or my siblings…"

"But they're married!" Edward freezes, his mouth snapping closed. He's oddly still, his eyes drilling into me. I want to look away, so much, but I can't. I continue. "Marriage is different. Marriage is binding. Mother was married to my Dad once. He loved us. I remember he did. But he died. There's a big difference between two people being together and being married…"

I stop talking. He's still looking at me, unmoving. Seconds pass, and I wait for him to answer, to tell me what he's thinking. The only sound in the room is our breathing, his steady and calm, mine harsh and irregular.

When his answer comes, it's so quiet I almost can't hear it.

"Marry me then."

"W…what?"

He looks at me, completely calm and collected. My astonishment is clear from my last statement, but I can tell he's serious. On the other hand, I'm a mess. I keep thinking of all the times I used to imagine this growing up, imagine my Prince Charming coming to whisk me away from my Evil Mother. I never thought it would come true. I'm not even sure it is coming true. Maybe it's just a big joke and he's going to laugh and say 'gotcha!' at any second. But after awhile, with me standing there gaping and Edward waiting expectantly, I begin to realize it's really happening.

"Why?"

I have to know. Why would he settle for me, when he could have anyone? Why would he put up with me and my issues? Why me? He smiles at me which, of course, makes my heart melt.

"Because you're special. You're smart and kind and amazing. Because you're beautiful…" I blush and look at the ground, embarrassed. "…And I love you." Although it's not the first time I've heard him say it, the emotion and passion in his words makes my heart pound. I kind of believed him before, but now I know he really, truly means it. He keeps going, oblivious of my epiphany. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you. I want to live with you. I want to have kids with you. I want to wake up every morning with you in my arms, just like this morning. I want you to know that you will always be loved and treasured. If you need to marry me right this second to know that I'll always love you, we will. Because I know that if we don't get married today, we will someday. I have faith in that."

His words hang between us for a moment, but the next second I cross the room to him and launch myself into his arms. He catches me easily, laughing and smiling. I can't help but giggle as he spins me round in his arms. As we come to a stop I rise up on my toes and press my lips firmly to his. I can feel him smile against my lips, and it makes me smile as well. It's a strange, almost kiss, because both of us are smiling too wide and laughing too much for it to be anything but sloppy and awkward. But it's perfect.

"I don't want to wait for someday." I whisper after we pull away, our faces close together, our noses still touching slightly. "I want it now. I want to get married."

And then he leans down to kiss me, and I lose myself in him.

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**Please review. Thank you for reading.**


	10. Sunday Afternoon

**Hey Everyone!**

**Sorry for the long time no update the reason: 1) got screwed by my exams 2) my ex-best friends are douches and 3) I had EPIC WRITERS BLOCK!**

**I finally got the drive to update when I got a random review from someone saying they missed the story. I'll try not to leave to long between updates again!**

**Except maybe over christmas when I'm in INDIA! **

**Without further ado, on to the story!**

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Chapter 10 - Sunday Afternoon

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Las Vegas is...busy.

There's lots of people, movement and lights, even in the middle of the day. It's loud. I can hear the hustle and bustle even through my closed window. It's so vastly different from my little corner of Phoenix, that for the first time I feel like the bubble I've put myself in my whole life, the shelter I've built for myself, is a bad thing. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

I'm trying not to freak out. I really am trying. Edward's helping a little. He has to focus mostly on the traffic, which seems even busier and scarier than Phoenix, but his hand has not left mine and his thumb continues to draw patterns on my skin. The ride up from Blyth was quick and quiet, only taking a couple of hours. Now it's just after lunch, the peak heat of the day. I'm thankful for the airconditioning in the car. We chatted a bit on the way, about nothing and everything at the same time. Stuff that seems so inconsequential, but is more than anyone has ever wanted to know about me ever. It's deeper than what we talked about at the coffee shop too. He wants to know me more than anything, and I'm more comfortable sharing now. Because he loves me. And I love him.

Since we've gotten to Las Vegas it's been quiet in the car. Now I'm taking in the people everywhere, flooding and flowing through the streets in a wave of flesh and noise.

"Bella?"

I tear my eyes away from a street musician on the sidewalk, furiously strumming his guitar, mouth wide open as he sings. Edward's looking at me as we pull up to a red light.

"I want you to pick out a hotel. OK?" He smiles at me reassuringly, and I nod my head. I can do that. Pick a hotel. There's so many as we drive down. I just have to decide on one.

If only it were that easy.

As we drive down the strip I take my job seriously, looking from side to side and studying each one as we pass. There's every kind imaginable, each one spectacular in their own way. We pass one that has a giant pirate ship in front of it, with scantily clad pirate woman galavanting around on the deck and in the riggings. Edward says it's call Treasure Island. The thought of pirates both thrills, and scares me.

"Not that one."

Edward simply nods and we move on.

There's a circus hotel, an Eiffel tower hotel and so many others, each large and oppressive with sprawling, multi story buildings. The height of the skyscrapers scares me a bit. We pass one tall, square one that has a lake out the front or it, the name of the hotel spelt out in curvy writing on the side of the building. The Bellagio. Before I know it, we're at the end of the strip, past the hotel in the shape of a Pyramid that gives me the shivers. I don't like triangles. We begin to head into a suburban area, so Edward turns around in a side street to head back the way we came.

"I can't decide." I explain.

"Take your time, there's no hurry."

I nod and continue to study each place as we go back the way we came. The places all look the same as on the way down. Except for one.

I must of missed it. It sits directly across from Treasure Island, so I was probably just distracted by the swashbuckling women at the time. It's a magnificent building, low lying but beautifully decorated. It's seems european in style, with columns out front and filigrees around the windows and doors. There's magnificent statues out front, and the building stretches out in two wings on either side of the central domed building.

"That one."

Edward gives me a blinding smile, then flicks on his indicator to pull into the hotel. As we drive up to the front door where smartly dressed valet drivers stand in wait, I see the name of the hotel written in proud gold lettering on the building.

The Venetian.

* * *

The inside of The Venetian is even more elaborate that the outside. Everything seems to be touched with gold, from the chairs to the walls to the front desk. I can't help but stop and gaze at the ceiling. A magnificent painting spans the entire roof, depicting a pale blue sky with noble, detailed angels sitting on fluffy white clouds. It's amazing.

I feel Edward's arm wrap around me, his warm body pressed up close to me. Switch my gaze from the ceiling to his face, both of us wearing matching grins.

"Wow" I sound kind of dazed, and I guess I am in a way. I never thought I would ever see anything like this in my life. Everythings so surreal, and if I didn't have Edward standing right next to me, I would have sworn I was dreaming.

"It gets better. I promise."

We make our way to the counter, and for the first time I study the people in the lobby with us. Most people I see are tourists wearing shorts and tank tops to cope with the flaming heat of the desert, camera hanging from their necks and maps clutched in sweaty hands.

There are other people I notice too. These people are dressed differently. The women wear dresses, or skirts and nice tops. Most are in tall, towering heels, and having glittering jewelry and makeup that gives them dark eyes and bright lips. They look to me like cartoon characters, all bold and accentuated. The men either dress in fancy, pressed shorts and polo's, or even more formally in dress pants and business shirts, like Edward.

We reach the counter and Edward starts talking to the lady. I'm glad I don't have to talk to her. With nothing to do, I keep looking around the lobby. That's when I see them.

There are two girls, Women. They're at the counter next to us being served by the different person. They look older than me, probably around Edward's age or older, and they are part of the second group of people in the lobby, the group with fancy, expensive looking clothing and miles of makeup. One is wearing a green wrap dress and black high heels, the other in strappy top with gaudy jewels on it, with floaty white pants and heels as well. Their identical blonde hair and orange tinged skin makes it hard for me to distinguish where one stops and the other starts. And worst of all, their red lipstick and blinding white teeth reminds me of the scary clowns from childhood.

However, what I notice about them most is that they're looking at me.

Well, that's not exactly true. They're looking at both of us. Me and Edward. While the worker is busy on the computer they lean towards each other, talking too quiet for me to hear. I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear them anyway. I can't help but stare at them. I'm used to people talking about me in public, so I usually just ignore it. But this is different. They look at Edward and smile weirdly, smirking. Then they look at me and their expressions change. Their noses wrinkle, they sneer at me. One of them studies me from head to toe, the displeasure on her face obvious, and then turns but to her friend to whisper.

"Bella?"

I turn away from them and back to Edward, feeling upset. I don't like how those women looked at me, how they made me feel. They judged me by how I look, by my clothes. It makes me feel unworthy of Edward.

I hear them laugh behind me, and Edwards head shoots up to stare at them. Immediately his expression turns stony, and her seems to get angry. The laughter stops. Edward gently untangles our hands, making me panic for a second. I calm down again when he wraps his arm around me firmly, pulling me close to his side.

"Come on, Bella. Our room is ready." I rest my head on his chest and nod. I let him lead me away, not even looking back at the women. I don't like them treating me that way, and it's clear Edward doesn't either. I know where I belong, and that's right here in his arms.

* * *

We leave the lobby and enter the main building of the hotel. For a confusing second it seems like we're outside, but then I realise that the room we've stepped into has ceilings painted like a summers day, light blue with puffs of clouds. There's lots of store fronts made to look like the outside as well, with cobbled pathways and plants growing under the windows. However, there was something even more amazing.

"There's a river inside!" I exclaimed in excitement.

The river flows through the middle of the room. It's big, big enough for boat to float on it. Some boats have people in them, and each one has someone standing at the back in a striped t-shirt, holding a large stick.

I look up at Edward to see him smiling at me, all traces of his previous anger gone. I can't help but laugh as I look back at the amazing sight.

"Welcome to Venice, my Bella." I looked at him, confused.

"But we're not in Italy." Edward smiles.

"The Venetian is made to look like Venice. Come on." He leads me down some steps to a platform next to the river where a boat is waiting for us, or 'Gondola' as the sign says. Edward jumps in first and helps me in, his firm grasp keeping me from falling. Once inside we settle on a bench seat and he drags me into his arms. I snuggle closer, and we push off as soon as the hotel workers stash our bags on the back of our Gondola.

As we float gently, we look at the shops as we pass. Cafes, clothing stores, they have everything in this indoor street. Every now and then we pass under an arched bridge that goes from one side to the other, people wandering back and forth. The man at the back steers with his long stick. I love it. I love it all.

"Look at that shop there." Edward whispers in my ear, his chest moving against my back gently. I look where he's pointing to see a shop with large glass windows and bright lights. Above it read's _Tiffany & Co._

I look back at him and smile, a little bashfully.

"Really?" Edward nods and I lean up and press my lips to his. It makes my heart stop, the feeling of his lips on mine. I hope it never changes. I never want to lose this feeling.

But I still can't shake old habits.

"Are you sure?" I want to kick myself when I see his smile disappear.

"Stop saying that Bella. I love you and I want to marry you. Please believe me."

I can't answer him. I believe him, but it's still so hard for me to understand.

I stay silent, turning to watch the shops and the people as we pass by. The sound of the water and the rocking of the boat is so relaxing, and I abandon my thoughts and snuggle into Edward. He's basically encasing me at this point, his arms wrapped around me firmly, my back to his chest. My eyes close and I drift in this safe, comforting feeling, letting it flow through me. I've gotten better at handling my emotions, at listening to them instead of pushing them away and locking them up. It might be because I've been having so many good emotions lately that it's easier for me to experience them than before.

I jump slightly as the boat bumps something. We've pulled into another dock and more hotel workers are waiting to carry our bags and help us out. Once we're on land again Edward grabs my hand.

"Our room's this way" he says, leading me down a hallway. After traversing the whole corridor, we finally come to the door at the end. One of the workers opens the door for us and takes our bags in, while the other turns to us.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cullen. Welcome to the Venetian Romance suit. Please enjoy your stay."

* * *

Holy...cow.

It's amazing.

The room looks like something out of a fairytale. We walk into a sitting room with plush couches, antique looking floral wallpaper and beautiful satin drapes. The only modern accessory is the television and sound system. I can see a kitchen through the door a the far end to the right. I turn away from there for now and go to the left.

To the bedroom.

All I can focus on is the bed. The king-sized, canopied, covered-in-a-hundred-cushions bed.

I want to live in it...with Edward of course.

I flip my shoes and socks off and dig my toes into the plush carpet. Looking back at Edward who's waiting patiently behind me, I give him a smirk, before running and dive bombing onto the bed. Cushions fly everywhere, and the duvet billows out around me. Laughter bubbles from me and before I know it I'm in a fit of giggles. Edward is laughing with me from across the room and I look up at him.

"What are you waiting for?" I pat the mattress next to me. Edward grins and kicks off his shoes before jumping on next to me. The mattress bounces, sending me rolling on top of Edward.

Neither of us are complaining.

* * *

We don't stay in the room for long. Before I know it Edward is dragging me off the bed (and away from his delicious lips) to head back to the inside-outside street. I follow along happily, my hand and my heart in his hands.

We walk this time, instead of taking a Gondola. Before long we're back to the shop Edward pointed out on our way. I can see inside the windows now, all the sparkling rings, necklaces and bracelets glinting in the light. I'm stuck in place, mesmerised, but Edward drags me inside instead.

It's very fancy in here. It's very modern, contrasting with the outside, and the people are all dressed in suits. It makes me a bit nervous. I stick close to Edward now, trying not to show how intimidated I feel.

It doesn't last for long. Edward drags me to the first display case. I'm soon caught up in all the sparkling rings, my wonder and awe overshadowing my discomfort from earlier. An overeager shop assisting makes her way over and although she makes me a bit uncomfortable, she does try her best to help.

"Would you like to look at the diamonds?" she asks, the smile stretched wide, leading us to a specific display case.

One look at the case full of perfect, white, shimmering Diamonds and I freeze, shaking my head.

_...pulling out a tissue from her pocket and wiping bright red smears of blood off her pristine diamond..._

"No, no diamonds."

Edwards at my side in an instant. I looking up at him, pleading.

"Mother had a diamond ring." My hand comes up to cup my cheek, feeling the small thin line across my bruised check. I've been avoiding mirrors. Edward grabs my hand from my face, interlacing our fingers.

"No diamonds." He places a quick kiss on my cheek before turning back to the assistant.

"What else do you have?" The request sends her into a flurry of activity. Ring after ring is paraded in front of me, in a rainbow of different colours, shapes, cut, styles...after a while I just shake my head as soon as I see them, not even bothering to really study them. Until finally...

"Wait!"

The lady freezes, her hand in mid air, a ring in her hand. She hands it to me and I stare at it.

It's perfect.

A square stone, so square and perfect that I want to jump around. There's three small diamonds on either side, but they're overshadowed by the Emerald. It so square, not too big, and the color almost exactly matches Edwards eyes. I love it.

"This one." I still can't look away from it. Edward is talking to the assistant in the background, and moves towards the cash register. I'm broken from my staring when he comes back to me. He takes the ring from my grasp and gently slides it on the ring finger on my left hand.

"I hope it always stays there." He kisses the ring gently, looking me in the eyes. I answer truthfully.

"Me too."

* * *

And we're off again.

Edward seems to know where he's taking me. I have no idea. I just tag along, completely preoccupied with taking in everything around me. There isn't too many people, luckily. I'm still not used to crowds...or any sort of people at all. Then Edward comes to a stop.

In front of a wedding dress shop.

We stand there, staring at the shop for a moment. I'm scared. I don't want to do this by myself. I know that usually the groom doesn't see the dress before the wedding, that the bride usually chooses with her bridesmaids, but I don't have those. I want Edward.

"You have to help me." My voice is strong and certain. "I can't do this without you."

"Together," he answers.

I nod and hold his hand tighter. "Together."

Dress shopping takes longer than ring shopping, but we find it eventually. After passing off dozens of dresses, and trying on a handful that I immediately decline, we find my dress. It was hiding in the back, but as soon as Edward pulls it out I know it's the one. I walk out of the changing room, the white fabric bunched and draped artfully around me, falling to the floor in a full skirt, anchored to my shoulders by delicate straps. It's beautiful but simple, and makes me feel like a princess in a fairytale. Edward immediately scoops me up and spins me around, my dress fanning out behind me. While I was in the changing room Edward has changed into a tux. Together, we're finally ready.

When I see myself in the mirror, I'm different. I don't see the small, mousy, nervous girl that I've been most of my life. I don't see the small white bandage on my arm, or the fading yellowish bruises on my face with angry red scratch across my cheek. Instead I see me and Edward together; strong, confident and happy.

I see where I belong.

* * *

**Thanks guys, the next chapter's important.**

**Goodnight!**


	11. Sunday Night

**Hello my Darlings!**

**Firstly, I am super sorry about the long wait for this update. I lost track of time between starting a new job, and having an amazing experience on India and Nepal! :P**

**Firstly I want to acknowledge all the great reviews I've gotten so far. Even if I don't get the chance to respond to many of them, I do read them all so keep 'em coming! Also someone along the way asked me if this is what Las Vegas is really like, and I can honestly say yes! All my knowledge is from a family holiday I went on almost 9 years ago when I was 11!**

**Please enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think :)**

* * *

**Chapter 11- Sunday Night**

* * *

Las Vegas is known for quicky weddings and 24 hour marriages. We were here for one of those things, and I sure hope the other doesn't happen. Because of this people don't give us a second glance as we leave the dress shop in our wedding attire.

The shop assistant lightly dusts my face with concealer and foundation before I leave, to cover the fading bruise, as well as dabbing on some lip gloss and mascara. I still feel light, natural and, dare I say, beautiful. My hair is up in a delicate bun, with whispy bits coming down to frame my face. It's so shiny and soft that I can't help but trail my free hand over it, my other help tightly in Edward's grasp. He stops leading the way to pull my hand away from my hair.

"The lady said you'll mess it up if you keep touching it."

"I know, by it feels so nice." I pout, looking up at Edward through my lashes.

"You are so... beautiful." The last word comes out as a sigh. Gently he pulls me closer, leaning down until his nose grazes mine and his warm breath ghosts across my lips. My own lips part, drinking him in, waiting for the ever perfect moment when his lips touch mine and my world stops. Instead, he pulls away.

I look up, annoyed, my heart racing and lungs gasping. He smirks cheekily.

"The lady also said that I couldn't kiss you until the wedding or I'll mess up your makeup." With a lightening fast kiss to my cheek, too fast for me to divert it to my lips, he's off again, leading me behind him. Grumbling I follow.

My pace is slower, hindered by the death trap stilettos strapped to my feet. They're gorgeous, with wide white satin straps that wrap over my feet and around my ankles, but I've never walked in heels before, and its a bit more difficult than I would have thought. Especially with my clumsiness. My feet are already aching, and people keep knocking me off balance. After one particularly forceful shoulder shove I stumble into Edward. He catches me easily and props me up with an arm around my waist.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

I nod. "It's the shoes." I reply. "I've never worn heels before"

Edward nods in understanding. "We're almost there, I promise." He keeps an arm around me and helps me to our destination.

The Chapel.

I imagine there are a lot of Chapels in Las Vegas, this one just being the one in our hotel. I had imagined something like what I once saw on a TV show. Shabby, with bad themed weddings and terrible decorations. The place we walk into however is anything but shabby.

The waiting room perfectly matches the theme and decor of the hotel, with historical opulence that takes my breath away. There is a lady sitting behind a desk to the side, immaculately dressed with wavy blonde hair that makes me jealous, until I remember the look and feel of my own hair. The lady stands to greet us.

"Hello, and welcome to the Venetian Wedding Chapel." My heart beats energetically with excitement. Edward helps me to the couch next to the desk and tells me to rest my feet. I do so gladly, my toes screaming and the balls of my feet aching. I listen as Edward talks to the lady about photos, videos, wedding contracts and vows. It makes my head spin, so I focus on studying the breathtaking paintings and pretty flower arrangements. Soon Edward comes to sit next to me, taking my hand.

"There's a couple in there right now, so we'll have to wait about 15 minutes. Is there anything in particular you want to happen, any details?" I think for a moment.

"No, I just want to marry you." And I want him to kiss me. The need is driving me insane.

"Ok, well the plan is for me to be at the front of the church and for you to walk down the aisle to meet me..."

"No." I interrupt. No. No. No! "Can you walk with me?" I plead. "I don't want to walk by myself. I...I'll fall over ...or walk the wrong way or something." I blush and look away, embarrassed, but Edward just smiles.

"Of course I will sweetheart. We'll both walk down the aisle. For music there's a choice of either the Wedding March or Pachelbel's canon..." he looks at me questionably.

"Pachelbel's canon." I answer confidently. "It's one of my favourites." Edward nods in agreement and continues.

"...and then the minister will perform the ceremony. For the Vows, I'm going to say something, but you don't have to if you don't want to." I think about this hard. Although the thought of saying vows in front of a minister and in such an important moment scares me, I really want to say something, to somehow let Edward know how much he means to me. But I can't decide now.

"I don't know." I admit.

"That's fine. You can decide when you're up there. Then there's just the rings and the kiss. Afterwards we sign the marriage contract and it should be processed by tomorrow or the day after." Just like that. I nod and lean into him. I'm glad he's going through everything with me beforehand, telling me exactly what I should expect each step of the way. It makes me calmer, less scared. It amazes me that he seems to know exactly what I need at any time.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" He grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. "You know I'll still love you and take care of you, even if we don't get married." I sigh and shake my head. "No, I want this. I need this." The security of knowing he'll be there for me, for some reason, is tied directly to the ceremony that's about to happen. I need it to be happy.

My mind is fuzzy and swirly. With my emotions, I'm always fighting to sort them out, to understand them. I wish I could organize my brain like I organize the things around me, into neat, ordered sections. I stare at my engagement ring, turning it slightly so that it sits directly in the center of my finger.

"I wish you didn't have to take care of me." Frustration burning red hot rushes through me. I don't even realise what I'm frustrated about until the words come out, like my brain bypasses my consciousness to my mouth. "I want to be good enough for you. I want to be your equal."

"You are my equal and you are good enough." he insists, his voice strong and almost angry. I stare across the room but Edward cups my cheek and gently brings my eyes back to him. I never in a million years thought I would stare into a man's eyes, into anyone's eyes, but they're my favourite part of Edward. "Bella, you are the strongest, bravest person I have ever met. It is not a weakness to need help, I'm almost certain that you need a lot less help than you think you do. I hate that people have made you think you can't do anything, because I'm so sure that you can."

I've never thought about it like this. I've only ever need told what I can't do every step of the way. That I'm different, broken. Edward rests his forehead against mine.

"I love you so much Isabella Marie Swan. I never thought I'd find you, that loving you would be so easy, but it's the easiest thing in the world. And I'm so happy that you love me back."

I breath out a shaky sigh. "I love you so much Edward. So much that it hurts."

He places a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth. "We'll figure this out together."

Just then the door swings open, a couple walking out hand in hand. They're in normal clothes, her a black dress and him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but the most striking thing about them is the blinding smiles on their faces. After talking to the lady for a moment they leave happily, with rings on their fingers and a marriage license in hand.

It's our turn.

A man with a big camera comes out and we pose for pictures. I feel weird and awkward in the first few but Edward finds ways to distract me, to make me smile. Soon we're waiting at the doors, me swaying in my towering shoes.

"Why don't you take them off?" Edward asks after catching me for the third time. "They're making you uncomfortable."

"I don't know if I'm allowed to get married in bare feet." I whisper back.

Edward smiles. "You can do whatever you want Bella, and who's going to know? You're in a floor length dress." He kneels in front of me, lifting my gown slightly. He unties the bows of my shoes and slides them off my feet while I use him for balance. Once my feet are flat on the ground I sigh in relief. Edward puts the shoes on the ground next to the door. "We'll pick them up on the way out."

A man pops his head out of the door in front of us. It's time.

* * *

The walk down the aisle is easier than I thought. I try to focus on my arm wrapped around Edward's, and the sound of the light, lilting string music. All the chairs are empty. The only people present are the minister and the photographer, which makes me relax a bit. Everything melts away as soon as I turn to face Edward, our hands interlocked between us. The ceremony is quick, I barely register what the minister is saying until we get to the vows. I still don't know what I'm going to do, but Edward goes first.

"Bella, there are a million reasons why I love you. I've already told you most of them, but I want you to know that you are smart, caring, beautiful and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I hope I can be my best for you. I love you Bella."

A single tear falls down my cheek, but I'm smiling so wide. I can't wait to be with him for always. The minister turns to me and I know exactly what I want to say.

"I love you..." My voice is quiet and slightly crackled form the tears, but Edward's smile tells me it's ok. "...and I want to spend the rest of my life married to you." I have nothing else to say. Another couple of tears fall, but Edward, his own eyes glassy, wipes them away with his thumb. I stare into his eyes, seeing all the love, comfort and strength I could ever need. We thread the rings onto each others fingers, and I distantly hear the minister speaking.

"...pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride." Suddenly Edwards hands are cupping my face, his lips pressing against mine. The kiss is just as breathtaking as all the others except there is a distinct depth and passion to it, making my toes curl and my brain melt. It's over too quickly and I let out a whine of displeasure, making Edward laugh.

"I think you're becoming a bit of a brat when it comes to my kisses, Mrs. Cullen." The sound of my new name makes my stomach swoop.

"Well, Mr. Cullen, as long as you keep giving them to me I won't have to be a brat now, will I?" Together we laugh as he wraps his arm around my waist and we make our way back down the aisle.

* * *

"It's just a bit further along, I promise." Edward is insistent, says he want to show me something, which is why I find myself stumbling along the sidewalk beside him, trapped in my death-defying shoes once more. There's more people out than before now that the sun has almost set, making it even harder to make our way through. People are staring now too, with me having to lift the hem of my dress to walk and Edward in his dashing tux.

Soon Edward comes to a stop and we seem to have reached our destination.

We're at a large lake, standing next to a railing looking out over it. Across from us is a giant multi-story hotel that we passed earlier in the day: The Bellagio.

"Why are we here?" I can't help but ask.

"You'll see in just a second." His eyes are light and innocent, his smile almost childlike.

Almost as soon as he finishes talking, hidden speakers all around us crackle to life. Edward stands behind me at the railing, his arms around me and his chin resting on my shoulder as the first few chords of a classical piano piece play, washing over me and sparking a memory.

"Claire de Lune" I whisper.

Edward hums in agreement. "Do you know it?"

"Yes. My father used to play it for me before he..." I trail off as the water in front of me suddenly bursts into life.

Hundreds of fountains shoot into the sky in a quiet whoosh, causing the crowd to gasp in surprise. Each fountain is lit by a spotlight from underneath.

Then they begin to dance.

A brilliant choreography of movement, colour and music. I'm entranced, staring wide-eyed at the graceful, beautiful waterdance.

"Do you like it?" Edward whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my cheek. I nod in response. "Dance with me?" he asks, kissing my temple.

"Here?" In the middle of all these people?

"Yes"

"But...I can't dance."

"Let me lead." I can't help but follow him as he leads me back from the railing. More people are staring and it makes me a bit uncomfortable.

Edward tugs at my hand. "Hey, look at me. Just ignore them." He pulls me close, wraps his arm around my waist and grips my hand in his. "May I have this dance Mrs. Cullen?" He makes me smile.

I rest my hand on his shoulder, and then we sway, gentle rocking motions in time with the music. Everything melts away until there's just me and Edward, the sound of rushing water and the twinkle of coloured lights.

As the song comes to an end, Edward gathers me in his arms and twirls me round. He gently places me back on my feet as the fountains finish their dance in a spectacular explosion, and he kisses me into infinity.

* * *

When I pull away I can hear people clapping and I bury my head into Edward's chest when I realise it's for us. We've drawn quite a crowd. As everyone wanders away one man approaches us, a fancy camera strung round his neck.

"Congratulations!" he exclaims happily.

"Thank you." replies Edward calmly as I stay quiet and watchful.

"I couldn't help but take some pictures of guys and I got some good ones. How about you give me your contact details and I'll make sure they get to you." I stand there, stunned, as Edward talks to the man, scribbling down his name, address and email. It seems strange that someone would do something so nice for us, for people he doesn't know.

"So, Mrs. Cullen. What would you like to do now? Dinner somewhere?" I look at the people around us. The thought of spending more time out in the crowds makes me scared and tired just thinking about it, but I don't want to stop Edward from enjoying himself.

"Or... " I look up at him as he speaks again. "We could go back to the room and order room service."

"Yeah?" I ask shyly.

"Yeah."

And with that we fight our way through the crowds back to the Venetian.

It's only when we're almost at the door that it occurs to me. It's our wedding night...aren't we supposed to have sex?

* * *

The thought of sex terrifies me... well, ok, it excites me a little, but mainly it terrifies me.

Am I ready for this? I don't know. Do I wish I were ready for this? Hell yes. All this is running through my head as Edward unlocks our door and ushers me inside. He turns to tell me something, but one look at my expression makes him freeze.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, concerned. I can't bring myself to answer, but my eyes give me away by darting to the bedroom door, then back to Edward. He relaxes a bit. "Nothing is going to happen tonight Bella. You're not ready."

I square my shoulders, my jaw clenching. "How do you know I'm not ready now?"

"The look on your face a moment ago. You're not ready." The fight drains out of me. He's got me there.

"I want to be ready." It comes out as a broken whisper as I struggle to hold in tears that seem to come from a never ending supply. I'm not sure why I'm crying. Probably because I'm tired and frustrated with myself. Frustration seems to lead to tears, or so I've learnt recently.

"Come on" says Edward. "Let's go lie in bed, order some food and relax." He hugs be tenderly, tucking me into my favourite spot against his chest. "We'll get there Bella, but it doesn't have to happen all at once."

I let him lead me away, take care of me, and hold me tightly in his arms where I belong, for hours into the night.

* * *

**So there's a bucketload of Fluff for you. It's probably not going to stick around for much longer in this story. You've been warned!**

**Thank you so much everyone :)**

**Love and Rockets! (Love the sign off, as shown to be in a review from Ash Young!)**


	12. Wednesday Night

**Hello! I'm sorry for the long wait between updates.**

**Overall I'm a tad bit disappointed at the low rate of review and such for this story. Ultimately I write for myself, but it'd still be nice to get a lil' lovin every once and awhile, so please let me know what you think at the end :)**

* * *

Chapter 12 - Wednesday

* * *

The Phoenix police department calls the next day as we're heading north on the highway. Mother finally went to the police station to file a missing persons report.

They served her with a restraining order instead.

Part of me is extremely satisfied with how it must have played out. The other part is terrified of what she'll try to do next. Edward tries to reassure me, telling me there's no way she can find me. The marriage has been processed, it's final. We applied to have my name changed before we left Las Vegas. Still, I worry.

We decided to leave Vegas the morning after our wedding. Edward has to get back to work in a few days, and although I love our time together, I'm struggling with not having a routine in my day.

The drive is relaxed. We make our way through Yosemite National Park, reveling at the nature around us and snapping picture of each other on Edwards phone. The nights we spend in motels along the way, stopping wherever and whenever we fancy. We hold each other tight, and get to know each other in a way I never thought I'd be able to. And I find that even after my initial insistence to go further, I'm happy and comfortable at the pace we're going, even if I still have that uncomfortable ache that I don't understand.

One emotion that I have grown to recognise over the short time I've been with Edward is hope. It's strange, the glow in my chest that seems to come out most when I'm around Edward, when he smiles at me. I feel hope for my future, hope that I can stay happy like this, or maybe become even happier. Hope that I can live normally, or as Edward continues to tell me, what is normal for me.

As we drive I rest my new notebook my my lap, but I don't write in it. I don't even open it. It's not that I don't want to, but more that I can't bring myself to. Lines, paragraphs, chapters of narrative run through my head constantly, sometimes becoming so vivid they send me into a daze. Edward seems to get used to my sudden silences, and the way I drift off with no warning. Whenever I finally settle my thoughts enough to sink myself back into reality the first thing I feel is Edward's hand gently holding mine, and the first thing I see his reassuring smile.

However, even though my mind is as active as ever I can't bring myself to write it down, because I know that back in Phoenix, sitting in Mother's desk is my last, unfinished notebook. And it's driving me insane knowing that I will most likely never be able to finish it, never be able to fill it up. I know exactly where I'm up to, exactly what I wrote in it last, but just the fact that the book itself is left unfinished is getting to me. It's incomplete. It's not perfect.

So I sit. And I spend hours getting absorbed in Edward's life, and in my future life with Edward. And I try not to think about it.

* * *

Edward lives in an apartment. It's in a quiet area of Seattle, midway between the towering high rises of downtown and sprawling suburbia. It's close to the hospital, and I think I like it. It's Wednesday afternoon when we pull up outside his building.

I've lived in apartments before with Mother but this is different to the small, cramped, manky ones in my memory. There's 24 hour security for one thing. It's small, but tidy and clean. I like the kitchen. It's not the stiff, square type of place that Mother's house was. It's comfortable.

We lug the boxes with my notebooks up, as well as Edward's duffle bag and my small bag of clothes we've procured along the way. We make a second trip to retrieve my Wedding dress and Edward's tux, which are carefully hanging in garment bags.

I don't have much time to relax and get used to the place. Edwards parents are expecting us for dinner.

Cue giant bundle of nerves and enormous butterfly's in my stomach.

Edward can tell I'm nervous. He grips my hand and leads me gently towards his car which is parked in the underground carpark. It's just like our rental. Silver, newish, safe, responsible. As Edward navigates the busy city streets heading towards the suburbs I get lost in my thoughts, which are speeding a mile a minute through my brain. I have a hard time calming myself, and I end up fidgeting relentlessly, gently tapping on the armrest in groups of three.

_Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap._

"It's going to be ok Bella." I barely hear Edward as he tries to relax me. I appreciate the attempt but I can tell I'm a mere minutes away from a cognitive lockdown. And I know that when, not if, I do circum to the chaos of the brain, I have no idea how long it will take me to get out again.

"Edward..." My voice is strained, horsed. "I'm scared they're not going to like me." He knows this already. Especially since he hasn't told him that we're married yet. He wanted to wait to tell them in person.

"They are going to love you, Bella. Please believe me." He places a gentle kiss on the back on my hand."

I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Edward." It's all I can manage before the panic sets in, and I'm overwhelmed by its frantic energy, sent into a numb trance.

* * *

I've experienced this before. It used to happen a lot when I had to go to school. The anxiety of the crowded hallways, the interactions with other teenagers. I could usually hold them off until I was in the safety of my room at home. It's been a while though. It catches me off guard. But as the muffled numbness settles around me, I do something I've never done before. I fight it.

I know Edward is still with me, but other than that I'm oblivious to almost everything else.

The fight seems endless and eternal, but eventually I feel myself drifting out of it. Touch comes back first, and gentle easing awareness of a cushioned seat beneath me, but mostly of the warm, strong arms around me.

Edward of course.

A sudden rush of sound registers next. I hear voices mostly. Whispers and murmurs.

I then become aware of my vision. I'm not in Edward's car anymore.

We're in a spacious living room, sitting on a plush couch. There's more people with us. I count five people. Across from us on the loveseat is a small, waif like woman, hand clasped with the blonde man sitting next to her. Alice and Jasper, I think. An armchair next to them holds an absolutely stunning woman, her flowing blonde hair and striking features matching her stylish clothes. Rosalie. There is a man perched on the arm of her chair, and he can only be Emmett. I can barely believe how big he is.

There's another armchair beside the couch we're on. In it sits a blonde man, older and dressed in a suit without the jacket. He looks a lot like Edward in his features. I know this is Carlise, Edward's father, but the first thing I think of when I see him is... Doctor.

I immediately shy away from him, pressing closer to Edward.

The quiet talking stops almost immediately, and I can feel everyone looking at me. I drop my gaze to my lap and refuse to move from there. For the first time I notice that my hand is still tapping absentmindedly against my leg.

_Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap._

"Bella. Are you ok?" I relax slightly at the sound of Edwards concerned voice. I force myself to still my hand as I nod in reply. The room falls silent again, but with a tense atmosphere that makes me uncomfortable. For once it's easy to identify the tense, awkward atmosphere.

"I'm sorry." I know I've screwed up. His whole family must think I'm a weirdo, a freak. A tear falls from my eye, unwillingly. Edward gently wipes it away with his thumb.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm just worried about you. Are you ok?"

I nod. "I just zoned out." I try to placate him, but I can tell he doesn't buy it.

"This was different from the other times. You were really gone there for a while. You didn't even notice when I led you from the car to here."

"Does this happen often?" I jump at the question that comes from the armchair next to us. I don't want to answer. I've learnt that answering doctors questions only leads to more questions, followed by medicine. Lots and lots of medicine.

But Edward answers for me.

"A couple of times on the way, but not as bad as this." I jerk my eyes up to meet Edwards, trying to convey my reluctance. I see only reassurance and love in his eyes. "How about we talk about this later" says Edward, addressing his Father. There's a murmur of agreement from around the room and I relax a bit more, knowing that the awkwardness is over for now.

"Well Bella, I'd like to introduce you to my family. This is Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie and my Father, Carlisle. My mother is..."

"Right here." We turn to see a woman in the doorway. She's beautiful. Hair the same shade as Edwards, falling in graceful curls around her face, wearing a beautiful blue wrap dress. Her smile is radiant, and she gives off a mothering air so strong, it makes me ache for the chance to have the mother I'd always dreamed of, but never had.

"Edward, it's nice to see you home again." Edward smiles lovingly as his mother hurries across the room to peck him on the cheek. "And this must be the lovely Bella that I've heard so much about. I'm Esme dear. It's a pleasure to meet you." Before I can blink, Esme leans down and kisses me as well, right on the cheek. I freeze in shock, lifting my hand to brush my still warm cheek. I've gotten used to Edward's touch, but such gentleness from a stranger catches me off guard.

I have little time to think about it however, as Esme quickly ushers us into the dining room. Dinner is ready.

* * *

The air around the dinner table is light as people catch up and banter. I'm happy to remain silent and observe for now. I'm self-conscious of the rings on my finger, hyper aware that Edward has yet to tell his parents about the wedding.

Everyone seems to be accepting my presence, even after my awkward entrance. Edward must have told them something about my...about me. The only one I feel a bit uncomfortable about is Edward's sister Alice. She's been staring at me more than the others, studying me. And she's frowning. That's not usually a good thing. There are many reasons to frown, but I can't think of anything other than anger at this point. I wait for the ball to drop, for the game to change. I feel it coming.

And then it does.

"So Bella, why did you follow my brother here?" The table falls deathly still and silent, the cheerful chatter freezing mid sentence. I look to Edward to see him staring at Alice in question, his eyes worried and suspicious.

"Umm..." I stutter. "I..."

"Why are you asking this Alice." Edwards voice is cold and foreign. He has never used that tone to speak to me before.

"I'm just trying to get to know your girlfriend, Edward." I can definitely read a cold, distant tone in her voice. Jasper rests a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs him off.

"How did you meet my brother, Bella? What do you do for a living? Where did you grow up..."

The table erupts in objection, surprisingly from the majority of it's occupants.

"Alice! Enough! Stop interrogating her.."

"I met Edward at a coffee shop."

It seems I have a way of rendering a room to silence. Or perhaps it's because it is the first time I have spoken to everyone. Everyone has turned their attention to me. It would usually make me nervous, but I am determine to defend myself, so that Edward doesn't have to. I want to show them I am good enough for him.

"I went to the same coffee shop everyday in Phoenix. One day Edward was in my seat." He laughs at that, and I can't help but send him a glancing smile.

"I grew up in a lot of places, depending on where Mother wanted to go, and what boyfriend she had."

Edwards hand finds mine under the table, grasping mine tightly.

"I have Asperger's syndrome and I came here with Edward because I fell in love with him." I leave her last question unanswered, hoping she will forget it. I don't think she will be very impressed to know that I don't earn a living myself.

Before she has a chance to continue her questioning, Edward cuts her off.

"And she's not my girlfriend... She's my wife."

"...WHAT!" Alices pretty, elf like features twist into an ugly snarl. "You mean to tell me you picked up some gold digging whore while on a work trip, married her, and brought her home with you. What, is she pregnant?"

"ALICE!" Esme screams.

I feel the color drain from my face and my hands begin to shake. I've encountered mean people before. The american high school experience is full of them. But coming from Edwards sister is something else entirely.

Edward leaps to his feet, letting go of my hand. Everyone's yelling. Edward sends his fist smashing into the dining table, rattling plates and causing me to jump in fright. A small part of me is afraid of him at this moment, of his angry face and forceful fists.

A foreign, gentle hand softly grips my elbow, pulls me too my feet and away from the commotion. I'm thankful to be away from the noise, and the anger, but all I want is my Edward back. But he's angry, busy yelling at a red faced and terrifying Alice. I'm led through the lounge and into another room, a conservatory. It takes all my energy to force myself to register that it's Rosalie that walks in front of me. She sits down on a couch, pulling me to sit next to her. All I can hear is my own breathing, and it registers that I'm breathing too fast, too shallow. Suddenly I realise I'm on the verge of a full on panic attack. My hands curl into fists and I'm rocking gently. Fighting, always fighting, to stay calm, stay here. I don't want to go to that place, the dark numb place in my mind.

I jump slightly when I feel an arm snake around my shoulders. I can vaguely hear Rosalie making soothing shushing sounds as she gently pulls me into her, directing my head to rest on her shoulder. I want to object, to tell her I don't like being touched by anyone other than Edward, but before I can she encases me in a warm, loving hug.

It feels amazing.

My body instantly relaxes into her, my arms coming up to wrap around her tightly. I don't want it to stop, I don't want to lose this. I burrow my face into her cardigan and finally start to control my breathing, but my hands grasp onto her tightly, unwilling to let go. I will always crave Edward's arms, but the feeling of a mother's hug for the first time in my life is earth shattering. Now I know what I've been missing all these years.

Rosalie begins to gently stroke my hair, and I can feel the tears begin to flow as I finally calm myself down. I realised there is someone else here, gently rubbing my back in soothing circles. Esme. Her motherly warmth emanates as well, even from such a small contact. I find myself feeling almost jealous of Edward, for having the chance to grow up with Esme as a mother, and of Alexis for having Rosalie.

I peek up at Rosalie, her beautiful face studying me with a soft smile. But her gaze drifts down and her smile falters as she studies my cheek closely. With a gentle hand she traces the faint, almost healed line of the cut on my cheek, her touch feather light across my tear damp, overheated skin. I hear Esme gasp in the background as she spies what Rosalie has.

Rosalie's question comes gently and quietly. "Who...?" My breathing stutters, and I bury my face in her cardigan once more. I debate whether to tell her, to reveal my heartache, or to ignore it. My answer comes without me realising.

"I wish my mother was more like you."

I know as soon as I say it that she will understand, she will guess the cause of the cut. The hand the strokes my hair freezes for a second, before continuing it's journey.

"You've got us now Bella. Esme is the best mother you could ask for, and I'll always be there for you."

I turn to the side to see Esme. She's crying, silent stream of tears running down her cheeks. She nods in support of Rosalie's statement.

I'm bombarded by emotions so strong, it feels like a tsunami wave crashing down. Violent sobs wrack through me, and I surrender to the feelings, allowing myself to be supported and comforted by these two loving mothers. I forget about the anger in the other room, revel in this moment as I wait for Edward to come back to me.

* * *

**Thanks, hope you enjoyed it!**


	13. Thursday Morning

**Hello everyone! Long time no see!**

**I'm sorry for the long delay in updating. This Semester is kicking my ass, and I have some big exams next week, but I managed to squeeze out this chapter for you, mostly because of SunflowerFran kicking my ass into gear. Thank you so much to my new friend!**

**I want to say a special thank you to all my new readers out there who have just climbed aboard for the ride. It seems that a Rec tree has been started lately (again, thank you SunflowerFran) so I've had a lot of new followers and reviews. Thank you so much for your support. It makes such a difference as a writer to have such awesome feedback :)**

**Anyway, without further ado, welcome back to Normality. **

Chapter 13 - Thursday Morning

"Bella. Bella wake up, Sweetheart." My eyes crack open groggily. I didn't mean to fall asleep. Esme and Rosalie aren't here, they must have left me to rest. Edward's kneeling next to the couch, gently stroking my hair. I study his face intently. It's calm, creaseless. Although there is a slight troubled look in his eyes, his anger is gone.

"You're you again." I mumble with a small smile, my voice thick with tears and sleep.

"What do you mean?" Edward replies, an oddly adorable confused look on his face.

I blink, trying to clear my foggy mind. "I don't like the angry you."

Edward sighs. "I'm sorry Bella. I didn't mean to get angry. You know I wasn't angry at you, right? I could never be angry at you."

I nod. "I know. It still scares me though."

With that, Edward gathers into his arms and settles on the couch with me curled up in his lap. He gathers up my left hand and starts placing gentle kisses on my rings. My emerald, Edward eye engagement ring and my wedding band. He whispers apologies in between kisses. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm love you... _Then he moves onto my face, raining kisses on my forehead, my nose, my cheeks. His breath whispers against my skin as he mumbles, before his voice is cut off as our mouths meet in a sweet kiss.

BREAK

Part of me wants to stay with Rosalie and Esme, to feel the force of a mothers love for as long as I can. But I'm tired and Edward is tired. A bigger part of me just wants to have Edward's body curled around mine, and to sleep for a long time. The ride home is quick, and we do just that, tucked away in his - no our - big comfy bed, where I burrow into him and feel safe, as I never have before.

Next thing I know Edward is waking me. He's already dressed in his work suit, and a glance at the alarm clock tells me it's only 6:30am.

"I've got to go to work sweetheart." I let out a groggy whine in protest. I don't want him to go. I've been dreading this moment. The moment when Edward has to go to work, and we're apart for the first time since he rescued me from Mother's house. Edward chuckles and leans down to kiss me chastely on the lips.

"I know, I don't want to go either. I've got some things for you before I go, ok?" I sit up a bit, rubbing sleep from my eyes as Edward sits down next to me on the bed. "I ordered you a phone a couple of days ago and got it sent here." He hands me a shiny black device. I handle it gently, amazed and slightly stunned. I've never had a cell phone before. I don't want to break it. It's flat and big, the whole front is taken up by the screen. Turning it over I see an emblem of an apple on the back. Mother had one of these. I was never allowed to touch it. "It's already loaded with my number, and my family's numbers, so if you need anything you just give one of us a call." I nod, to scared to tell him that I'm not sure how to use it.

"And I've got you a card for my account." He hands me a bank card, again black and shiny. There's a little sticky note on it with the PIN. "Once you've got the number memorised make sure you throw away the sticky note ok." I nod again, still unable to tell him the truth. I've never used one of these either.

Edward continues on, oblivious. "I've got you some cash too..." he hands me some folded bills "...and a house key." Lastly he hands me a key. I take it and add it to my small pile of new, shiny things. It's all a bit overwhelming, but I try not to show it. I know if Edward realises I'm panicking too much he might decided to stay home from work, and I know that he needs to go back today. He's already used up all his leave over the past week to drive back with me. I don't want to get him in trouble.

So I swallow, let out a breath and smile at him in what I hope is a convincing way. He seems to buy it. It helps that I'm still half asleep. He grabs my hand and looks me in the eyes.

"Are you sure you're going to be ok today? Do you know what you want to do for the day?" I shake my head and shrug. I hadn't really thought past this moment right here, the moment where we part for the day. The past week has been so out of routine, but I could handle it because I was with Edward the whole time, and all the travelling meant thing were different anyway. Now that I'm here and I know this is my new home, and that in a few short moments I will be alone for the day I feel the overwhelming urge to go back to how it was before.

I take another deep breath. I have to figure this out for myself. "I'll be ok Edward." My voice is a bit rough from sleep. "You go to work. I promise I'll be fine." He hesitates for just a second. I can see a weird emotion in his eyes. Finally he nods and lets go of my hand. "Ok. I'll be home at 5 o'clock. I'll see you then." Before I can blink Edward cups my face and pulls me into a mind blowing kiss.

I'm drowning, lost in his touch, his taste, his smell. He takes my breath away and brings it back at the same time. I grab onto the lapels of his suit and pull him to me, knowing that if I had it my way I would never let him go. I feel his tongue trace over my lips and I let him in, loving the feeling of him all around me, consuming me, drinking me. It never gets old. It's just as exhilarating as the first time we kissed like this. All too soon I feel him slowing down, pulling back.

"I have to go" Edward whispers against my lips. I nod, slightly flustered, and smooth down his lapels, which had gotten twisted in my grip. With a final peck on the cheek he heads towards the door, pausing on his way out.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need me. No matter what. I'll be there if you need me, ok Sweetheart?" I nod in reply, hoping that I'll be able to keep that promise. "Go back to sleep Bella. I'll be home before you know it."

Then he's gone, and I'm left missing him already.

BREAK

Although I feel tired, I can't get back to sleep. Soon enough the clock ticks round to 7:00am, my normal waking time, and I swing my legs out of bed on auto pilot. I pause for a moment, looking around Edwards - our - room. I want to go back to my routine so badly, but everything's different here. I know I have to make a new routine, figure out a new life for me here. It seems so daunting, and I feel my breathing start to stutter and quicken. I can feel my chest tighten, my hands start to tremble. I hate this. I hate feeling so weak. After a moment I force myself to close my eyes and slow my breathing. I've dealt with this before, and I have to know I can function without Edward. I can do this.

'_Not everything is perfect...I cannot change it...I cannot control it...just let it be...'_

My old mantra comes to me easily and as I repeat it I can feel my muscles relaxing, my mind slowing down. It takes a while, longer than if Edward were here, but eventually I feel like myself again.

And so I begin my day, taking things one step at a time to try and find my new life in my new home.

I start small, by figuring out the shower system and finding where the towels are. From there I follow on to investigate the kitchen and find myself some breakfast. After eating a bowl of cereal and washing my dishes I write myself a list on a notepad by the phone of food that I like to eat. Hopefully Edward can get them for me.

Next I look around the house. Everything is clean and tidy, so there's not much for me to do, but I see a couple of things I want to fix. Hoping Edward won't mind I start to rearrange a bit. It starts small, a swear it does. A vase in a different place, an armchair moved a touch to the right. I'm not sure how I ended up carting the couch to the other end of the lounge (carefully so I don't scratch the wood floors) or turning the TV around to face the other end of the room. Next thing I know, it's 10:30am and the dining room and lounge have been changed around. But now they're right, perfect.

I really hope Edward doesn't mind.

BREAK

I don't really register what I'm doing as a grab a jersey from my bag of new clothes, stuff me feet in the trainers and gather up my new shiny belongings into my pockets. I'm almost numb as I lock the door firmly behind me and make my way down to the elevator.

It's overcast and grey outside, colder than I'm used to. I stand outside the apartment building for a moment, glancing left and right, trying to decide. People walk past me, some not bothering to avoid me and I get bumped a bit. Trying not to get too worked up about it I instinctively turn right and start my way down the street. It's hard to concentrate on counting. This street is a lot busier than the one I walked down in Phoenix. I have to avoid more people, cross more roads, stop for more cars.

I'm not sure what's going to happen when I reach step 529.

_...378...379...380..._

I push that thought out of my mind and keep going. A big man charges into me, cellphone to his ear, talking angrily. The contact throws me to the side, into someone else. I stutter out a quick apology but keep going. I can't stop.

What am I doing out here. I should have stayed home. Edward never told me I couldn't go out, he would never do that to me, but I feel like a fool for thinking I can handle the new environment on my own.

_...529._

I freeze. I can't bring myself to make another step. People on the sidewalk stream around me with disgruntled mutterings and curses. Taking a deep breath I glance at the store the I've stopped in front of.

And...it's a coffee shop.

Huh.

It's smaller than the one in Phoenix. I can see through the front windows that it's busy, but not overly so. I can see armchairs and couches scattered throughout, centered around a fireplace. It looks warm, inviting. Making a split second decision I make my way towards the door, pushing it open and slipping inside.

It is warm in here. Toasty. There is quiet, gentle music in the background and a dull murmur of other peoples conversations. The fire burns with a slow rolling flame, crackling in the hearth.

I hesitantly approach the counter, pulling out the cash the Edward gave me from my pocket. There's no one in line so I stand at the counter, watching the lone worker unload a dishwasher and put away coffee cups. I don't have the courage to get his attention, so I stand there and wait.

Finally he looks up. I register in the split second our eyes meet that his are dark brown and gentle, before I look down at this hands, avoiding any more eye contact. His skin is darker, and his brown hair is tied in a ponytail. He is Native American. Handsome, with a wide smile.

"Hi there, how can I help you?" I swallow and psyche myself into answering.

"Ca...can I h...have...a hot chocolate...please?" I wring my hands together, trying to control my breathing. I glance up quickly at his face to see his furrowed brow and half-fallen smile. After a moment he writes down my order.

"Would you like whipped cream on top?"

"No!" The coffee worker jerks in surprise at my strong reply. "N...no thank you. Umm...can I...can I just have two marshmallows on the side please. And...and a chocolate swirl on top. A symmetrical swirl."

"A symmetrical swirl?" I can feel him looking at me, studying me.

"Ye...yes please." I nod in confirmation. He finishes writing down my order.

"Ok, that will be $4.50." I slide my cash towards him, collect my change and turn to glance around the room. I see a spare seat by the fire and the heat seems like a good idea, so I head over and sit in the armchair. The heat of the fire reminds me of Phoenix, perhaps the only thing I miss.

It's only after I finally steady myself and calm my thoughts that I look up and see her standing there, a short way away from me, studying me. Next to her, holding her hand, is a young girl. They share the same beautiful blonde hair, but the girl's hair falls in little ringlets and she has eyes of bright blue.

"Are you ok, Bella."

Rosalie sounds concerned. I immediately want to be near her, to feel the warmth and love that I had last night. I nod in reply as they make their way over.

"Can we sit with you?" Again I nod.

"How did you know I was here?" I ask, puzzled.

"I saw you out on the street. You looked very...focussed. I just wanted to to make sure you were alright." She lifts the girl into the seat across from me. "I'm going to go order, will you guys be ok here together?" I nod, and the little girl bounces her head enthusiastically.

And then it's just the two of us.

"Hi, my name's Alexa, but everyone calls me Lexie. What's yours?" He voice is so light and pure. Her face is alive with a bright smile, and her small legs are swinging innocently back in forth as she sits in her oversized chair.

"Hello. My name is Isabella, but I like Bella. Edward has told me a lot about you." Her eyes light up at the mention of her Uncle.

"You're Unca Eddie's wife! I'm so happy you're here!" Before I can protest she's down from her chair and climbing in my lap. I freeze, not knowing what to do. I've never been around children before. They scare me, with all their energy and the lack of general tidiness. Lexie pulls herself up and throws her arms around my neck in a hug.

It's overwhelming, but not necessarily bad. I'm not sure what to do with my hands, but some deep ingrained instinct drives me to gently enclose my arms around her. It's different from Rosalie and Esme's hugs. For once I'm the bigger one, the one giving the comfort. I've been craving love from others from so long, and it's a completely foreign concept to give love to another.

I like it.

"It's nice to meet you Lexie."

She pulls back, but doesn't get down. Instead she remains sitting on my lap and starts chatting at top speed, about anything and everything that comes to mind. She doesn't seem to expect a reply and instead seems content with my nods as I try to keep up.

There is so much life and happiness in her. It enthralls me. Her happiness spreads to me and I can't help but smile as I listen and digest everything she's telling me.

"Bella, your drink is here."

Rosalie is smiling, sitting in Lexie's abandoned seat. I hadn't even registered that she was back. The cafe worker places my hot chocolate down on the table.

"Two marshmallows on the side and a symmetrical swirl for the pretty lady," he says with timid smile before heading back to the counter.

The swirl on top is in the shape of a flower. Perfectly symmetrical, just as I asked. But the marshmallow, they're both sitting next to each other on the same side of the mug. I can fix it though. I lean forward, careful to make sure that Lexie doesn't fall, and push one of the soft, sticky sweets to the other side of the mug. Then I let out a sigh of relief. It's perfect.

"Lexie." Rosalie says. "Why don't you come sit over here and let Bella drink her Hot Chocolate."

"But Mom!" Lexie whines. "I wanna stay with Aunt Bella."

As Rosalie goes to reply I cut her off. "It's ok. I don't mind," I reassure her. Lexie sits with her back to my front, facing her mother. She looks up at me and smiles. I can't help but smile back.

Rosalie stays silent for a moment before speaking again. "Are you ok Bella? You seemed a bit preoccupied and upset outside."

I look up at her in shock, trying to hold eye contact and judge her expression, but I can't figure it out. I don't know if she's concerned, or embarrassed. Mother was always embarrassed if I showed any...peculiar behaviour in public.

Thinking of nothing else to say, I tell the truth.

"I was...overwhelmed. I'm used to a lot of structure and routine in my life. I had to leave that behind. I'm trying to find new ones here. It's...hard." I divert my eyes self consciously. Lexie is oblivious to our conversation, instead keeping herself busy studying the pattern on the fabric of the armchair. Her candid nonchalance helps keep me calm.

"Why didn't you ask Edward for help? He does help you with this stuff, right?"

I nod in reply. "Of course. He's the biggest help of all. I would have never been able to leave Mother if he hadn't..." It's still hard to talk about that. "He had to go to work today. He's already missed so much while we were on our way here. And he said I could call him but..." This is the part that I'm embarrassed about. I don't know what she'll think of me.

"But..." she prompts me, gently.

"I..." letting out a breath and reach into my pocket and fish out my shiny new phone, putting it on the arm of my chair. "He gave me this but...I don't know...how to...how to use it." Rosalie's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You've never used an iPhone before?"

I shake my head. "No...I've never used a phone before."

Now Rosalie splutters in gobsmacked disbelief. I'm saved from my ever-growing embarrassment by the cafe worker returning with Rosalie and Lexie's drinks. I let Lexie slide down from my lap to return to Rosalie so she can drink her steamer. Avoiding Rosalie's stare I collect up my own drink, but I have no appetite for it. Instead I wrap my hands around it to absorb it's warmth and tuck my knees up to my chest. It's as close as I can get to a fetal position in this public environment.

It is a while before Rosalie breaks the silence. "Never?" she lets out in a weak, pained whisper.

Again I shake my head.

"Why?"

Her question makes me think for a bit before I answer. Instead of getting lost in my mind thinking about it, I tell her as it comes to me, as I remember.

"When I was young I used to be afraid of the phone. The loud noise scared me. It was irrational. When I was older and no longer scared of it, it was just Mother and me. She never treated me like...a real person...a normal person. I never had friends, so no one ever called me. I never had anyone to call myself, so I just never learnt how."

I don't want to think about it anymore. It makes the dark feeling bubble inside me. I think it's anger, this dark emotion what comes whenever I think of Mother. I don't like it very much.

Instead, I ask Rosalie a question.

"Will you teach me?" Rosalie thinks for a moment as she sips her coffee.

"Do you want to come back to my house. I have the day off."

"Ok, but can you teach me how to use this as well?" I pull out the shiny black credit card and place it on top of the phone.

I glance up to see Rosalie breath out a deep sigh. Her eyes water slightly, and she dashes away a tear that escapes. She looks at me with a small, sad smile on her face.

"Sure honey. I can help you with whatever you need."

BREAK

**Thank you so much for reading. Drop me a review if you have anything you'd like to say. I can't say a date for the next update, but it will definitely happen eventually! I'm off to do more study and to find my new Kitten, who I think is curled up somewhere around the house.**

**Love and Rockets **

**Secret xoxo**


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